


its murder, baby

by thereisnoreality



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood and Violence, Consensual Somnophilia, Dark Humor, Irony, M/M, Murder, Previously negotiated kinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22732300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereisnoreality/pseuds/thereisnoreality
Summary: a serial killer, a writer and a cop walk into a bar...
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 255
Kudos: 544





	1. there's just no time to die

**Author's Note:**

> im very proud of that summary tbh 
> 
> thank you sm for the comm!!
> 
> the following chapters should be up soon but tbh my writing schedule is a mess, orbital mech is kicking my butt and ive just learned that any system of time that we've defined isn't real bc most of it is inaccurate so... i can say that this week and the next few are emphatically not going to be fun. or accurately timed so there's that. :D
> 
> thanks to yoon and jesse for looking this over for me and also putting up with seven hours of just [keyboard sounds] 💖
> 
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4j66ZdcMIZhDawGqBLaluN?si=dw9IS5aTQA-tHE-WWBNzZQ)

_**Jaemin** _

Jaemin tips his head and watches the body at his feet twitch in the most amusing way. The man gurgles something incomprehensible, his eyes widening for a split second, before his form slumps into stillness. Jaemin adjusts his gas mask, wiping away at the plastic screen with gloved hands and waits until the figure finally stops moving, all the way down to its fingertips.

Only then does Jaemin slowly step away, glancing around him. There’s no need, not really. It’s past two in the morning on the outskirts of the city and the kill had been quiet. Just a spritz of the ever handy chloroform and the man had gone down like a sack of dead pigs. It had been unusually easy for a man his size given Jaemin hadn’t used more than the normal amount of chloroform but he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

His phone vibrates in his back pocket and Jaemin glances down at the body, making it sure won’t move in some horrific zombie movie fashion, before walking a few safe meters away and slipping off his glove to answer the call. 

“What’s up baby?” 

“Can you pick up some milk on the way home?” Renjun asks, and there’s a loud clatter on the other end. “Wait, or maybe it was bread? Or eggs. I don’t know it was something -” There’s a pause, and then Renjun’s muttering to himself, low and incomprehensible. 

Jaemin waits for a few more seconds before - lips twitching in amusement - he prompts: “Renjun?”

“Huh? Oh yeah,” Renjun says, his voice coming back in range, sounding distracted. “Um, just get all the things you would find on like a stereotypical grocery list, I can’t be fucked to go into the kitchen right now but I know we don’t have food.”

“Okay,” Jaemin agrees easily. “Are you writing?” 

“Mmm,” Renjun mumbles and there’s another noise like a sheaf of papers falling off the desk. 

“Oh, babe,” Jaemin says, before Renjun hangs up on him in a writing haze. “You know that question you were asking me? About if poisonous gas can kill a man?” 

“Yeah?”

Jaemin glances back at the body before turning away with a victorious smile curling his face. “I did some research for you today - it totally can.”

“Ahh,” Renjun makes a relieved noise. “Fuck that’s awesome, thanks babe. Love you.”

And he hangs up before Jaemin can say another word. Jaemin doesn’t take any offense to it, just laughs softly to himself and tucks his phone back into his jeans, slipping on his gloves and turning back to the body. Renjun gets like this when he’s in the thick of a book - he doesn’t notice the world passing around him until he’s done with whatever has been nattering at the forefront of his mind for weeks. It’s a miracle he even pulled himself out of the haze long enough to call Jaemin tonight, especially with how ferociously he’s been writing these last few days. 

The clean up is quick and hard - because bodies get even heavier when they’re dead - but soon Jaemin manages to get the body disposed of, far enough away from the primary point that it won’t be found for days, and heads back to the city, stripping off his protective gear and shoving it in his backpack. He thinks about swinging by the store but ultimately decides against it. He already smells enough like blood and chemicals and any more will give Renjun a headache. 

Jaemin takes the subway back to the apartment. It’s silent; only one other person in the same car and Jaemin doesn’t look up as she gets up and moves past him to the exit. There’s a beep and the doors swish open and then Jaemin is alone. He sits there, eyes closed, and lets his body sway along to the rhythm of the subway train lull him into an almost meditative state. His mind plays back the events of the night in high definition technicolour and Jaemin smiles. 

He does so love killing. 

The apartment is quiet and dark when Jaemin enters.

The living room is a mess, blankets crumpled on the couch and several of Renjun’s writing notebooks scattered around the table, along with three juice boxes they’d bought for when they babysat their neighbour’s five year old. Jaemin raises his eyebrows at the mess before cleaning it up, stacking Renjun’s notebooks where he can clearly see them in case he wakes up in the middle of the night to find a random fact he'd scribbled out months ago - it certainly wouldn't be the first time. Renjun isn't in his office but the lamp is turned on and Jaemin looks around just to make sure he isn't curled up in a corner somewhere before walking to their bedroom.

There's a lump of blankets on the bed and underneath comes a white light. All Jaemin can hear is the loud tapping of the keys and the sporadic muttering from Renjun.

"Babe," Jaemin asks cautiously. "Have you finally gone crazy?'

There's a beat and then the covers fall off and Renjun peers up at him, peeking out over the edge of the blankets. "You're home," he says. "That was a while."

"Yeah, sorry about that, clean up took a while." Jaemin pauses with his hand on the light switch. "I'm going to turn the light on now, okay?"

"Mmm." Renjun waves a hand at him before ducking back down to stare at his laptop.

Jaemin flicks on the light and then navigates around the surprisingly clean bedroom that _hasn't_ been ransacked by Renjun's crazy writing habits and into the bathroom. He smells awful - but that's warranted - and Renjun is no stranger to the myriad of disgusting and strange scents Jaemin brings back with him after work.

When he gets out of the bathroom, freshly showered and clean, he finds Renjun nearly half off the bed, one foot braced on the floor, leaning away from the center while he types frantically - as if he was about to get out of bed but then got distracted. Jaemin watches him for a few seconds before sighing and walking over, waiting until Renjun's fingers pause for more than a couple seconds before he leans in. It's always a toss up as to how Renjun will react to Jaemin interrupting him but sometimes the situation calls for it. This is one of those times. Jaemin has had a very long day; he's had a hard day at work, he's gone through a lengthy murder and he just wants to lie down in bed and not think while some mundane show plays in the background.

"Renjun," Jaemin says carefully. "Are you going to stay like this the whole night? Because while I do love you, I definitely might attempt to murder you if you insist on clacking away on those keys the whole time I'm trying to sleep."

And for the first time since Jaemin has come home - probably for the first time in hours - Renjun peels his eyes completely away from the screen, his hands dropping from the keys. He blinks a couple of times to focus on Jaemin before his confused expression clears and he snorts, sitting back on the completely, tucking his legs underneath him. "Please," he says easily, leaning back and planting his palms on the bed, looking up at Jaemin. "You would make a terrible killer."

A smile curves over Jaemin's face. "Oh really?" He hums.

"Yeah," Renjun agrees, a small laugh huffing out his pretty mouth. "You'd be so unsubtle about it, and I don't think you'd be able to keep quiet about it."

Jaemin raises an eyebrow. "You think I'd feel guilty?" He asks incredulously. Did Renjun know him at all?

Renjun scoffs. "No," he says, his hand slowly travelling up Jaemin's arm before patting at his chest, and looking up at him through his lashes. "You'd want to brag," he says softly. "You’d want the whole world to know you were the one who pulled it off. I don’t think you could keep that pretty mouth shut if you tried."

Jaemin swallows. Renjun's eyes are dark and his lips are pushed out in an amused smile and all of sudden Jaemin wants to shove him down on the bed and kiss him until he forgets everything else. "That wouldn't make me a very good murderer would it?" Jaemin points out. His heart is pounding hard and slow in his chest, every beat feeling like a loud kick drum is lodged in his chest.

"That's the point, baby," Renjun says easily, his hand sliding down Jaemin's stomach and brushing the top of his pajamas pants, deliberate and slow, before drawing away with a sharp smile. "I'm going to go write in the office, don't stay up for me."

He shuts his laptop and drops it on the side of the bed to get up and Jaemin sees his chance. Before Renjun can even put a foot onto the floor, Jaemin's atop him, pushing him back onto the bed and kissing him hard. Renjun laughs against his mouth, a victorious sound escaping him before he kisses back, one of his arms wrapping around Jaemin's back.

Jaemin desperately wants to pin Renjun down and have his way with him because _god_ it's so sexy when Renjun both perfectly estimates and underestimates him at the same time. It shows how much he understands Jaemin even when Jaemin keeps secrets from him. Renjun lets out a soft noise as Jaemin pulls away to nose down his neck and Jaemin has to fight back that carnal urge that rips through him. Renjun has work to do, clearly, and Jaemin doesn't want to distract him from that no matter how badly he wants to fuck him. It’ll just come back to bite him in the ass later when Renjun doesn’t end up meeting his deadlines. 

When he pulls away, slowly, carefully, pressing a final litany of fluttering kisses to the curve of Renjun’s jaw, his cheek, his nose, Renjun's eyes flutter open to stare at him and Jaemin grins down at him.

"Don't you have to write?" He murmurs, amused, when it becomes clear that Renjun isn't about to say anything, too busy staring up at Jaemin, his chest heaving slightly and his fingers still digging into the divots of Jaemin’s spine.

Renjun's eyes narrow and his arms drop to his side. “Get off me,” he mutters and Jaemin laughs and rolls off him, narrowly avoiding Renjun’s laptop. Renjun huffs down at him as he grabs his things and marches out of their bedroom. 

“Goodnight, babe,” Jaemin calls brightly. 

Renjun slams the door shut in response. 

_**Renjun** _

Sometime after four in the morning, Renjun’s brain quits on him in a fit of pique. 

His fingers fall away from keyboard and he slumps in his chair, blinking at the bright screen - because no matter _what_ Jaemin says, the night time function is stupid and Renjun hates seeing his screen turn to yellow - let the blue light kill him, he doesn’t care- for what feels like the first time in _hours_. 

His eyes burn immediately and tears well up in his eyes. Renjun doesn’t bother to swipe them away and instead tries to focus back on his book. His brain quits _again_ , seeming to threaten destruction, and Renjun huffs out an annoyed sigh and shuts his computer off. He saves everything obsessively before he does so, because he’s been down _that_ rabbit hole before and it was not a fun time for anyone involved, Renjun especially. 

He leans over to turn the singular desk lamp off, effectively plunging the room into darkness and remains sitting there, staring into nothing for a long time. Finally, his body jolts him into motion without being prompted. He stumbles off the chair and through the dark of his apartment, avoiding the corners of the their absurdly sharp coffee table before entering the bedroom.

Jaemin always sleeps _outward_. His limbs thrown out in every direction, latching onto whoever or whatever is closest, wrapping absurdly tight fingers around them, his face pressed into the surface of whatever he's holding. Renjun's woken up more than once to bruises flowering on his waist and arms in the blurred shapes of Jaemin's fingers. He doesn't quite mind it - quite the opposite really - but tonight, Jaemin has spread out onto his side of the bed, face pressed into Renjun's pillow, his face scrunched up, uneasy even in sleep. Renjun looks down at him, lips pursed, before tentatively nudging onto the bed. Jaemin mumbles something to himself and his hand curls tighter around Renjun's pillow.

Renjun sighs. "Jaemin," he whispers, feeling kind of bad but not enough that he doesn't want to wake him up. He _also_ wants to get some sleep. In an instant, Jaemin's eyes flicker open and pin Renjun to where he sits, half on the bed, half not, slightly shivering the in the cool breeze from the fan. Jaemin's not fully awake, that much is clear from how he struggles to keep his gaze open. His hand, that had clenched tightly on the pillow when Renjun had woken him, relaxes and he scoots over marginally to allow Renjun onto the bed. Luckily, Renjun's tiny enough to fit into to that space and he curls into Jaemin's side, sighing when Jaemin immediately wraps back around him, nosing into the curve of his neck and jaw and throwing a leg over his waist, pinning Renjun to the bed.

"You're so clingy," Renjun murmurs, his eyes already slipping shut, a soporific effect from the first soft surface he's touched in hours. He wraps his free arm around Jaemin though, soaking up his warmth.

"Mmmph." Is Jaemin's eloquent response before he's back to dreamland, body going slack where it's half sprawled over Renjun.

"So what exactly are we looking at here?"

Renjun tears his gaze away from the sunny sky. There are barely any clouds in the sky, just faint wisps of gossamer ivory floating high up in the heavens with a hot, heavy sun beating down atop everything.

His editor has finally finished leafing through the painstakingly edited manuscript Renjun had gone over last night before the meeting and looks up at him, arching a brow questioningly.

Renjun sits up straighter in his chair, and wishes it was at least a little colder so he could compulsively pull his sweater sleeves down over his hands. He's had Naeun as an editor for a year now but he's still no less terrified of her. "I was thinking a series of short stories," he says carefully. "Instead of writing a bunch of super gory murders spread out, we could have them like this - short and together."

Naeun raises both of her eyebrows and hums noncommittally, flipping through the pages again. There's a long, incredibly tense moment of silence before Naeun speaks. "It's a good idea," she says finally. "It'll break up the monotony of the long novels, and it'll open you up to a new demographic. Especially with how popular your last book was." She hums again and flips to the start of the manuscript, narrowing her eyes down at it. "It's a good idea," she says again, glancing up at Renjun. "I'll run it by Irene today after our meeting but frankly, I think you're good to keep going, given that we just put in another run order for your first book."

Renjun lets out a relieved sigh and slumps in his chair. Going by the faint twinkle in Naeun's eye, his relief doesn't go unnoticed. "That's so good to hear," Renjun says fervently. He didn't know what he would have done had the proposal not gone through. Probably not slept for a week while he tried to think of a way to expand one of his stories. Or just think of a new one entirely.

Naeun grants him a rare smile, and flips her hair behind her shoulder before sliding her laptop closer. "Now," she says, long acrylics poised on the keyboard. "Let's talk contracts."

“Congratulations,” Donghyuck says around his drink. “Mr. Renjun Huang, ready to take over the world with his murdery writing.” 

Renjun rolls his eyes but doesn’t hold back the faint smile that rises to his lips in fondness at Donghyuck’s teasing. “It’s just a short story collection.”

“I’ll devour every word when it comes out,” Donghyuck promises. “What does Jaemin think?”

“He hasn’t read it yet,” Renjun says, flipping through the menu. “He’s been really busy at the store the last few weeks.”

“What does a butcher have to do that makes him so busy?” Donghyuck snorts. “Did he get an extra shipment of ostrich meat?”

Renjun shrugs in lieu of answer. He would have normally wondered as well but the book was taking up all available mental space in his head and Jaemin just looked so tired every night that Renjun didn’t want to bother him with unnecessary questions he wouldn’t remember the answers to in an hour anyway. 

There’s a beat of silence where Renjun silently peruses the menu wondering if he could just get by with another cup of coffee and ride that wave till dinner time, but his stomach growls warningly at him and with a silent sigh, Renjun flips to the sandwiches. Donghyuck’s face lights up all of a sudden. 

“What if Jaemin was a secret murderer? He’d make it really easy to hide too, with his job.” He says delightedly, conspiratorially around his drink. “Is that how you get all of your ideas?”

It’s Renjun’s turn to snort at him, and he doesn’t hold back. “We actually had that same discussion last night,” he says, huffing a laugh when he remembers Jaemin’s offended look at Renjun’s suggestion that he wouldn’t be able to cut it as a killer. “He’d make a _terrible_ murderer.”

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. “How do you suppose?”

Renjun repeats the same reasoning he’d given Jaemin last night and Donghyuck smiles. “You have a low opinion of your boyfriend,” he tells Renjun in a low voice, faintly amused. “I think he’d make a fantastically terrifying murderer. You’d never see it coming.”

“I know Jaemin,” Renjun refutes. “He wouldn’t be able to keep quiet.” It’s not a _low_ opinion, just a fact. Jaemin is extroverted in everything he does, from waking up in the morning to sleeping; everything about him is loud and overstated and fabulously eye-catching. Renjun’s sure that if Jaemin ever felt inclined to fall into the same path that ruled the characters that traversed over Renjun’s pages, he wouldn’t be able to hold back about it.

There’s a funny light in Donghyuck’s eyes but he just hums noncommittally. “Agree to disagree,” he says finally and the conversation moves on. 

When the finally get their food, Renjun asks about Jisung. He only slightly regrets it when the smile that spreads across Donghyuck’s mouth is fully nauseating. 

“Good,” he says around a mouthful of pasta. “Competition season is almost winding down.”

“He’ll be home soon.” 

The smile turns softer, more sappier. “Yeah.”

Renjun considers him. “God, you’re disgusting.”

In a second, Donghyuck’s narrowing his eyes at him. “You don’t get to say that to me when you have Jaemin around.” 

“Me and Jaemin are nowhere are nauseating as you are around Jisung.” 

“Well _that’s_ a complete and utter lie.”

_**Jeno** _

The station is quiet.

There is the faint sound of the copier beeping in the distance and the dulcet tones of Doyoung beating the coffee machine into submission but otherwise, for one am on a Friday night, the police precinct is unquiet. Even the detainees that they’d carted in for the night are quiet, asleep or just staring blankly at the wall.

Jeno glances up at the clock wearily and groans internally when he sees the minute hand had barely ticked by since he’d last checked. He doesn’t mind the overnight shifts because they’re usually interesting enough to keep awake but tonight is slow. It's quiet and slow.

Jeno's almost about to drift off, his chin slipping off his fist several times in the same minute, when Yuta walks into the precinct, shrugging off his rain coat. His hair is damp and Doyoung greets him with a wide smile that fades when he sees the concerned look on Yuta's face.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Yuta leans in and lowers his voice. "We found another one," he says. "By the river, this time."

Jeno narrows his eyes, suddenly feeling wide awake as he watches the two of them. Doyoung's face pinches in consternation. "Again?" He demands lowly. "That's the fourth one in three months."

"Yeah," Yuta agrees and his hands fall down to cover Doyoung's where he's nervously twisting his wedding ring around and around on his finger. Jeno is interested enough to keep listening now, especially because he hasn't heard anything about this yet and it's not like Doyoung to keep something from him.

"Let's go see the Captain," Doyoung murmurs and Yuta nods and they both vanish into the hallway leading to the Captain's office.

Jeno frowns after them. _Another one,_ Yuta had said. Another body? A fourth body found in three months? How had he not heard about it before. Sure, Jeno wasn't as high up as Doyoung or some of the other detectives but he was pretty sure this wasn't something he would be left out of. Especially if it was making Yuta this nervous.

It takes the good part of forty five minutes before Doyoung and Yuta walk back out into the precinct, twin frowns on both of their faces.

"What's wrong?" Jeno murmurs quietly when Doyoung nears him.

Doyoung just shakes his head.

"You can tell me," Jeno presses. "If I can help, you know I would-"

"It's not that," Doyoung sighs and his hand lands on Jeno's shoulder, massaging down on him. "Seriously, Jen, it's just not something we can talk about yet, not until the Captain says so."

Jeno lets it go. "Okay," he agrees easily. "You'll let me know though?"

Doyoung just smiles sweetly down at him. "Absolutely. Now stop falling asleep at your desk and do some paperwork."

Jeno groans but he turns around to his desk and grabs the sheaf of papers that always steadily pile up no matter how much he whittles away at it.

It's almost dawn when Jeno finally stops, stretching out his aching fingers and pulls out his phone. He doesn't expect there to be anything, especially given that everyone that he knows is either fast asleep or dozing into their own paperwork. Jeno smiles at Yuta's faintly twitching form before he flips to his phone.

Near the end of the shift, Doyoung comes up to him with a faintly unimpressed look.

"What?" Jeno protests before he can even start. "I'm about to leave in like ten minutes and there hasn't been a single case all night."

Doyoung just rolls his eyes and drops a book on Jeno's desk. It lands with a loud thump, startling Yuta awake from his doze. "Read that," he orders before heading back to his husband. "You might actually learn something about a hard-to-solve murder."

Jeno glances down at the book. _Midnight in Berlin_ the title reads. "A book?" He asks incredulously, tracing over the shadowy figure drawn onto the cover of the book, the silhouette of a knife its hand. He flips to the back and skims the summary. "A murder mystery, really?"

"Yeah, really," Doyoung repeats, nudging Yuta awake. "Read it."

Jeno looks at the book dubiously again before picking it up and gathering his things. The sun is starting to rise over the city as they walk out of the police station. Doyoung shepherds Yuta into their car and glances over his shoulder at Jeno.

"You want a ride?"

"No, I'll walk." Jeno waves them off, dropping the book in his bag and heading down the sidewalk to the subway station. The cool morning air does nothing to help the sleepiness slowly overtaking him and Jeno tips his head up to the sky, taking a deep breath of frigid air before heading down the subway stairs.

In the train, he pulls out the book and stares at the cover once more before slowly flipping it open. He might as well read, really. If he doesn't keep his brain occupied, he will most certainly fall asleep. Renjun Huang - the author - grants him a placid smile from the inner cover, his gaze cool and knowing and Jeno blinks at the picture once more, strangely drawn in, before he flips to the first page and starts to read.


	2. worship in the bedroom the only heaven I'll be sent to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeno finally pulls Renjun Huang's new book out of the bag and tentatively opens it. There on the first page, under the title, Renjun has scribbled, in his loopy handwriting Thanks for the biggest compliment, Jeno. I hope you like this one just as much - Renjun Huang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the long wait! i've finished up all outstanding works and fest stuff and i'm going to do my best to finish this up before uni hits me in the face via horrendously awkward zoom calls next week ><
> 
> ** all the kinks and sexual acts are pre discussed off screen but if that bothers anyone and the tags are not enough please let me know how i can better change them!

_6 Months Later_

_**Jeno** _

“Will you _stop_ reading that book?”

Jeno looks up, confused, his finger automatically acting as a placeholder as he flips the book shut. Chenle drops down across from him, blowing his hair out of his eyes with an exasperated, dramatic huff, shaking off his coat before throwing it on the empty chair beside him. 

“Hello to you too,” Jeno greets easily, thumbing at the corner of the page, folding it down before setting the book aside. He knows many avid bookworms, Yuta included, that would murder him for such an act, but Jeno prefers to _use_ his books, not just to read superficially and then place back on the shelf to act as decoration. 

Chenle scowls good naturedly at him. “You’ve been reading that book _nonstop_ for months,” he says, shooting Jeno’s book a disgusted look. “Haven’t you memorised it by now?”

“It’s a good book,” Jeno refutes, easy going. Chenle is all bluster, no bite; he just likes to put on a show, just like when he was sixteen and trying to prove to Jeno that he was just as much of adult as him. It’s more cute than it is anything else, which is an opinion shared by everyone they know, much to Chenle’s displeasure.

“You’ve read it ragged,” Chenle observes and true to form, his mock annoyance drops away, and he picks up the menu lying on the table. Jeno glances at the book. He’d bought his own copy a week after Doyoung had lent him his copy and in the following weeks had read it over and over again, savouring the words, the feeling of knowing what was going to come but still relishing it just as much every single time. It was cracked at the spine, the pages thin and frail after multiple times of Jeno bending them down, a couple of water stains from when he’d gotten caught in a thunderstorm and had forgotten to shove it in his bag before pulling out his umbrella. “Why don’t you just buy a new copy?” 

“This one has character,” Jeno defends. 

Chenle rolls his eyes. “But how are you going to get this copy signed? It looks disgusting, you can’t show the author that.”

Jeno frowns. “Where would I ever meet…” The words trail away as Chenle slips two tickets across the table. Jeno slowly picks them up. Two tickets to a local signing event. For Renjun Huang’s new book. He stares at Chenle, who’s watching with a tiny smile. “Holy fuck.”

Chenle bursts out laughing, tucking the tickets back into his jacket. “Ahh, have I finally found you the perfect present?” He asks, clearly remembering the time he’d bought Jeno the newest Apple Watch for his twenty-fifth birthday only to be greeted at Jeno’s apartment by the fourth, and newest addition to Jeno’s adoptive cat family. 

“How did you even know that was happening?” Jeno asks in disbelief. “ _I_ didn’t even know.” 

“I’ve got my ways,” Chenle says with a wink. “Besides, after the tenth or so time you gushed to me about the book, I picked it up and tried it out.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s not bad.”

“It’s amazing,” Jeno says staunchly and Chenle rolls his eyes. 

“Anyway,” he says. “Finish your drink, we’re going to be late.”

“It’s today,” Jeno panics and grabs his coffee. “Oh my god, why didn’t you tell me.” 

“Cause I knew you’d act like this,” Chenle says, watching him with a faintly disgusted expression. “This way you have no time to panic.” 

“Too late,” Jeno tells him and Chenle rolls his eyes again, before hauling Jeno out of the shop. 

The line is already forming outside the bookshop and its starting to drizzle again when they arrive. Jeno pulls the collar of his jacket up to his neck but it does little to protect him from the rain. 

“I can’t believe you got me these tickets,” he tells Chenle quietly. “Thank you. I really needed this.” It’s been a stressful few weeks at work. The cold cases have steadily been growing month after month with no leads, no evidence and Jeno has been staying back late to help go over them, watching in quiet concern, as the frown in Doyoung’s face gets deeper and deeper as the weeks pass by with no new breaks. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t bring an umbrella,” Chenle says, glancing up at the sky with a frown and brushing off Jeno’s thanks in that nonchalant he always does.

Jeno nudges Chenle’s shoulder and waits until he glances up at Jeno, eyes hidden behind darkening bangs, to grant him a smile. “Seriously, I mean it.”

Chenle sighs, a smile playing about his lips. “Of course, Jeno. You’re always welcome.”

Renjun Huang is the tiniest and _cutest_ man Jeno has ever seen. He catches sight of him just as they manage to edge in the door, getting out of the incessant drizzle, still at the back of the line, and his heart nearly stops in his chest. 

“Oh my god,” Jeno blurts in a whisper. Going by Chenle’s snort, he hears him perfectly. 

“Close your mouth before you start drooling all over the floor,” he whispers and Jeno snaps his jaw shut. 

Renjun Huang is smiling at the next person in line, nudging his glasses up his nose as he opens his pen again. 

“He’s so cute,” Jeno whispers and turns red when the two girls in front of him glance back at him in unison and start giggling. 

Chenle sighs. 

By the time they get up to the front of the line, Jeno is starting to sweat underneath his collar and his palms are itchy. The book, hidden safely below his jacket looks way more ragged than it should be and all of a sudden, Jeno feels embarrassed about it. 

“Go, Jeno,” Chenle hisses all of a sudden and shoves Jeno forward because he’s -

The next one in line. 

“Hi there,” _Renjun Huang_ says to Jeno, smiling up at him with that tiny cute smile of his that Jeno has been fixated on since he’d entered the bookstore. 

“Hi- hi,” Jeno blurts nervously. “Hi. I said that already.”

Renjun laughs a little, extending his hand and Jeno stares at it for a moment before he hastily hands his book over, along with the newly bought copy of Renjun’s newest book and post it note containing his name. 

“I’m uh - I’m sorry about the state of your book,” he murmurs, blushing despite himself. “I’ve kind of read it to pieces.”

“That’s the biggest compliment ever,” Renjun tells him, with _another_ smile. Jeno tells his fluttering heart to shut the fuck up and stop trying to leap out of his chest. “It’s a mark of well loved book.”

“That is definitely me,” Jeno mutters, trying not to blush as Renjun laughs softly. 

“Well,” he says, signing the second book with a flourish and crinkling a sweet smile up at Jeno. “Thank you very much and I hope you like the second one just as much.”

“I’m sure I w- you’re a really good writer,” Jeno blurts, switching tacks at the last moment. Renjun’s eyes widen, just as a fraction and Jeno can feel his cheeks flood red. “I just wanted to say that, um- I really admire your writing.”

He’s being ushered to the right and so Jeno hastily gathers his things and shoots Renjun one last quick wave, only for Renjun to completely ignore the fact that there’s someone in front of him and wave back at Jeno. 

Jeno leaves the store, cheeks pink and heart pounding for reasons he can certainly name but doesn’t want to, not quite yet. 

Late at night, after he's showered and delayed dinner for as long as he possibly can, Jeno finally pulls Renjun Huang's new book out of the bag and tentatively opens it. There on the first page, under the title, Renjun has scribbled, in his loopy handwriting _Thanks for the biggest compliment, Jeno. I hope you like this one just as much - Renjun Huang._

Jeno stares down at the inscription for longer than can be considered sane before he finally takes a deep breath and opens the book. The number of time he'd wished over the past few months that he could go back again and read Renjun's book as if it was the first time he was reading it. And now, he had a brand new book, to devour anew.

Jeno swallows and then opens the book.

At midnight, halfway through the book, something starts niggling at the back of Jeno's brain and he frowns down at the page. He's on the third short story and it's all been achingly good so far, full of suspense, making him turn the pages faster and faster. But... but there's something off. Something there. He can't quite put his finger on it yet, but its there.

At two am, two stories away from the end, Jeno's brain has kicked into overdrive. Thirty minutes ago, without putting the book down, he'd dug blindly around in his bedside drawers for a notepad and pen, starting to take notes on whatever jumped out of the page, calling to his attention. Nothing he could make sense of just yet, but Jeno hadn't survived as a detective for four years without listening to his instincts.

At three am, Jeno slams the book shut, grabs his jacket, and the notepad and jogs down the street until he finds a cab that's willing to take him straight to the station.

_**Renjun** _

Renjun is sitting on the couch, in his pajamas when his phone buzzes, exactly at midnight.

"Hey," he says absently when picks up, thumbing to twitter and refreshing the page again. Already the key smashes have started.

"How's it feel to be the most talented writer in the entire world?" Comes Jaemin's low question and Renjun blinks, taking a second to take in those words before he laughs incredulously.

"I'm hardly that," he says but a smile plays around his lips, full and unhidden. Here in his house at midnight, he doesn't have to hide anything, and even less from Jaemin.

"You can't convince me otherwise," Jaemin sings from the other end of the line. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there, babe. I wish I could just come home right now."

"Do your job," Renjun says. "It's fine, its just one night."

"The night you're releasing your book," Jaemin sighs. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologising," Renjun scolds. "It's not your fault the shipment got screwed up. I know how expensive that meat is. You would have been fucked if you missed it."

Jaemin sniffs. "I know," he says before his tone shifts into irritation. "I'm going to kill those delivery guys."

Renjun laughs. "And I'll be sure to visit you in your jail cell."

"This again?" Jaemin asks, tone shifting easily to match his, lightening under Renjun’s teasing. "I would make an amazing killer."

"I'm sure you would, babe," Renjun says soothingly and given by the tetchy noise Jaemin lets out, he can tell he's being patronised. Renjun sets his phone on speaker, setting it down on the couch and refreshes the page again and makes a low noise as his notifications instantly flood. "Oh my god."

"What?" Jaemin is instantly on high alert. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Renjun says absently. "It's just- uh- a lot of people." There's hundreds of them flooding Renjun's notifications, people who already bought the book online, devouring the first few pages in seconds, people who are _lining up_ at bookstores. It's so many people. So much more than Renjun ever imagined it to be.

"Oh, is that all?" Jaemin sounds relaxed and there's a grunt as something heavy lands.

"It's a _lot_ of people, Jaemin," Renjun says blankly. "More than- more than I thought."

"Of course there are," Jaemin says pleased. "I told you babe, you're amazing and your book was so popular. Of course everyone wants to read this one too."

His phone pings and Renjun picks it up to see several emails from his editor, his agent, the CEO of the company. Holy fuck.

There's another loud noise from the other end and Renjun blinks, breaking out of his dazed reverie. "What _are_ you doing over there? Murdering a cow?"

"Close," Jaemin says around a pant. "Breaking it down."

Renjun wrinkles his nose. "Gross. Are you covered in blood?"

Jaemin laughs. "That tends to happen when you break down a whole cow."

"Please shower before you come anywhere near me."

"I'll try not to bleed cow blood all over you," Jaemin says cheerfully and Renjun marvels at how bright he can be when it's a quarter past midnight. If it hadn't been for the surprise shipment that had arrived early - for a definition of early as it was the middle of the night - Jaemin would been right next to Renjun now, sitting on the couch, obsessively stalking the internet for any articles about Renjun, just as, if not more, excited than Renjun.

Renjun wishes he was here though he would never say that out loud. It would just hurt Jaemin, who already felt so guilty about having to leave.

His phone starts buzzing with a call from his agent and Renjun sighs. "Babe, I have to go. Work is calling."

"Have fun being the best author in the world," Jaemin calls and Renjun smiles. "I'll see you in an hour."

"Drive safely," Renjun says and waits for Jaemin to acknowledge it before he hangs up and transfers calls. "Hey."

" _'Hey'_ , he says," Ten says through a snort. "Have you been on the internet?"

"I can't tear myself away," Renjun mumbles. "Have you?"

"I can't tear myself away," Ten parrots, in a sharp teasing tone. "Renjun you're blowing up. And it's only been thirty minutes."

"Yeah it's... crazy," Renjun says. It's nothing substantial quite yet, just a lot of screaming but it's a hundred times more reception than his debut novel had received when it dropped and it's dizzying to watch.

"And _we_ are going to capitalise on it," Ten says quickly. "You have a book signing tomorrow night, yes?"

"Yea-"

"And now you have one every single for the rest of the week, as well as a couple of readings at bookstores during the day," Ten rattles off. "Be prepared to work your ass off, because this is what I managed to get so _far_. You're going to hit the stars, Renjun, if I have anything to say about it."

"And I'm sure you will," Renjun says, amused.

Ten makes a satisfied noise. "Exactly," he says. "Now get on Instagram or Twitter and say something about how overwhelmed and happy you are. Make something up."

"I _am_ overwhelmed and happy," Renjun points out.

"Then it shouldn't be that hard," Ten snips back, but not aggressively and Renjun smirks at it. He does so love riling Ten up. "I'll talk to you later, I need to make more calls."

"Don't set your ear on fire," Renjun calls and Ten grunts at him before hanging up.

Renjun laughs, suddenly feeling so much lighter than he had for the past few months. Not all of his worries have vanished but under the new light, it just seems a lot less insistent now. He answers to a couple of tweets, posts a half covered selfie with his book before calling his mom, a large smile on his face the whole time, something that hasn’t been there for a while. 

The next week is absolutely packed. 

Renjun is up before Jaemin even starts stirring, which is nearly unheard of in the relationship as Renjun despises mornings and Jaemin is disgustingly hearty and hale even on little sleep. 

He spends the days on morning shows, radio shows, interviews with snooty critics, interviews with nice critics and then spends the evening with Ten over dinner while they figure out the next day. 

It’s exhausting but truly the best he’s been through in a while. Every single day, Renjun gets to meet more people who’ve read his book, who liked his old book and came back for more, who picked up the new one out of curiosity and liked it so much they came to tell him so. It’s the best thing. 

He’s at the end of the week, absolutely exhausted and worn out when the tenth or so book signing rolls around. 

“Am I getting a break after this?” He asks Ten in the backroom of the bookstore, yanking on his jacket and ruffling his hair back down, trying to tame it from the drizzle of rain that had them on the way in. “I think my hand’s about to fall off from singing so many books.”

“You’re getting a day off,” Ten tells him, not even looking up from his phone. “Kun wants you over for dinner Sunday.”

Renjun grins, lightening up at the thought of meeting his cousin for the first time in months. “Really?” 

Ten hums. “Yeah, he threatened bloody murder if I kept you away for another week.”

“I’ll check with Jaemin,” Renjun says, rummaging around for his phone. “I want chicken.”

“Kun knows,” Ten says, tapping at his phone. “Get ready, you’re going out in two.”

Renjun pats his hair down again before giving up entirely and just walking out, Ten on his heels. 

There’s a man in the line. 

Well, there’s plenty of guys _and_ girls in line but this particular man stands out because he hasn’t taken his eyes off Renjun the whole time. The others are fidgeting around, on their phones, reading the book, but this man, in the leather jacket, and the black mask, and the rimmed glasses hasn’t taken his eyes off Renjun once. 

Renjun glances up at him again as another person moves forward. The man hasn’t looked away. Renjun swallows and looks down. 

He’s no stranger to a desiring gaze; Renjun knows what people see when they look at him, know they think him weak and wanting, know that they see something they want to own and Renjun’s known for a very long time how to deal with people like that. But this one…

The man’s companion, a slightly younger guy in a coat that looks straight off the runways from Paris and eclectic pink hair whispers something to him and the man’s eyes crinkle up into a smile, laughing loud enough that Renjun, six people away from him can hear it. 

This one is different then. 

Renjun looks up at the next person with a smile. “Hello.”

Jeno Lee. 

The name and the face doesn’t stop running through Renjun’s mind, and he’s distracted enough that even Jaemin, in the short while that they see each other before bed notices. 

“What’s wrong?” Jaemin asks, as they toss the decorative pillows to the ground, pulling back the comforter. “You’ve been off all evening.”

Renjun climbs into bed, and takes off his glasses. “There was a guy at the book signing today.”

Jaemin tenses a little and Renjun looks up at him. He doesn’t ever think Jaemin as dangerous, even if can and regularly does wield large meat cleavers with an ability that scares and turns Renjun on in equal measure. But Renjun is always aware that Jaemin would fight anyone and anything for him. “What kind of guy.”

Renjun sighs and slides under the covers, going fully horizontal. “A very cute guy,” he murmurs. “With a very cute smile.”

“Ah.” Jaemin relaxes and flicks the bedside lamp off. “That cute, huh? You haven’t mentioned someone in a while.”

“There hasn’t been anyone _that_ cute in a while,” Renjun says, tossing an arm over Jaemin’s waist, as sleep starts to overtake him. “Min-ah.”

“Mmm?” 

“Kun invited us for dinner tomorrow night.”

Jaemin shifts. “Does that mean I get to see you for more than ten minutes then?”

Renjun smiles. “You get me the whole day tomorrow baby. I’m all yours. Until six pm.”

“Oh, don’t give me that kind of power,” Jaemin rumbles. “You have no idea what I can do with it.” 

Renjun taps his fingers on Jaemin’s hip bone. “Surprise me.” 

_**Jaemin** _

In Jaemin’s defense, he hasn’t gotten to spend time with Renjun in over two weeks. 

It’s not anyone’s fault - except maybe Ten’s for scheduling every free minute of Renjun’s day to do more and _more_ press - because Jaemin is so fucking proud of Renjun for getting this far and being this successful. He’s so proud.

But he’s also missed his boyfriend. And Jaemin tends to get a little… _unhinged_ when he doesn’t get to have what’s his. Call it a byproduct of his hobbies. 

That’s the excuse Jaemin is going to give anyway if Renjun ends up yelling at him for this, though knowing his boyfriend as well as he does, Jaemin’s sure there’s very little chance of that. 

Renjun barely stirs as Jaemin nudges his sweat pants down, ghosting over his soft cock, still hidden under his boxers. Jaemin takes a breath and then slowly, carefully tugs Renjun’s underwear down just enough that he can get at Renjun’s cock. 

Jaemin loves sucking Renjun off. It’s nowhere near when Renjun plants him on his hands and knees and fucks him hard enough to make Jaemin black out but god, it’s really fucking close. He loves the way Renjun comes undone just by his tongue, the way his hands clench unforvgivingly tight in Jaemin’s hair, the way he becomes hard and selfish, lost in his own pleasure as he’s getting close to come.

And most of all, Jaemin loves surprising Renjun. 

He lifts his head up and sucks Renjun’s cock in between his lips, relishing the weight on his tongue. Renjun tosses his head, frowning a little in his sleep but he doesn’t wake up yet, probably still exhausted from the week long tour junket. Jaemin glances at the clock hanging by the bathroom entrance. Ten am. More than long past time for Renjun to wake up. 

His cock fills up, growing harder and hotter in Jaemin’s mouth as blood flows to it, as Jaemin sucks harder, teasing his tongue around the head, where Renjun is most sensitive. 

Renjun stirs, hand clenching in the sheet, eyes scrunching up as he tries to open them and Jaemin smirks around his cock before taking him down in one fell swoop and sucking _hard_. 

“Jaemin,” Renjun murmurs, shocked and groggy. “What the fuck-”

Jaemin hums around his cock and Renjun groans, curses slipping from his still sleepy mouth and he shakily props himself up on an elbow to stare down at Jaemin. Jaemin pulls off, letting Renjun’s cock still rest on his lips and smiles. “Morning, sweetheart.”

“It’s so fucking early-” Renjun groans, his hand clenching on Jaemin’s shoulder. “ _Why_ -”

“It’s ten in the morning actually,” Jaemin interrupts, before pouting innocently, widening his eyes. “But I can stop if you want to go back to sleep.” 

Renjun’s hand slides up from his shoulder to clench in his hair as he drops back down on the bed. “Don’t you dare,” he groans. “You woke me up, you finish this.”

Jaemin smiles and licks along the length of Renjun’s cock, prompting another broken moan from him before sucking him fully down again, trying not to gag when Renjun’s hips thrust up, mindlessly. 

“Fuck, Jaemin,” Renjun sighs, his other hand joining the first in Jaemin’s hair. “You drive me crazy.”

He’s more or less driving the rhythm now, and Jaemin lets him. It’s been ages since he got to blow Renjun and it’s always fun when Renjun takes the lead, dragging his head up and down, fucking his cock shallowly down Jaemin’s throat, hissing when Jaemin drools around him. 

Jaemin shifts on the bed, his own cock, rubbing heavy and hard against the bed drawing his attention and he moans at the barest amount of friction the movement provides. Renjun, affected by the vibrations, whimpers before fucking his hips fully into Jaemin’s mouth with no regard for his poor throat. Or his gag reflex. 

Jaemin chokes, tears filling his vision, but he stays there, relaxing his throat, and doing his best to keep the suction there until Renjun is coming down his throat, his hands clenching painfully in Jaemin’s hair, the prettiest moan ripping out of him as he does. 

Jaemin pulls off with a cough, resting his head on Renjun’s hip, not even realising he’s rutting down onto the bed until Renjun drags him up to his eye level. 

“I can’t believe you did that,” Renjun groans, kissing him, his hand shoving down the front of Jaemin’s pants, palming at his cock. 

Jaemin hums. “I like to surprise.”

Renjun sucks a dark, flowering hickey at the base of his neck while wrapping a hand around Jaemin’s weeping cock. “That you did, baby,” Renjun murmurs into the hollow of his throat, and Jaemin comes easily with a shuddering moan that sends him slumping against Renjun. 

They lay there together, basking in the easy glow of each other and dozing off for a few more minutes before Renjun’s alarm rings. Jaemin groans and presses his face into Renjun’s shoulder. He’s sticky and gross and there’s come drying on the inside of his sweats and on his stomach but he doesn’t want to move quite yet.

“I don’t want to move,” Renjun sighs. 

“Me neither,” Jaemin says. “Let’s stay like this, I missed you these last few weeks.”

Renjun wraps an arm around him. “I missed you too,” he says. There’s a moment of silence where they lay in each others arms and Jaemin is about to drift back off again when Renjun nudges him. “Go shower.”

Jaemin whines. “Renjun, _no_.”

“Go shower, it’s disgusting,” Renjun says. “And I’ll make breakfast and then we can lie in bed until we have to go to Kun’s.” 

Jaemin perks up. “You promise?”

“Yeah,” Renjun says, with a fond smile and kisses the tip of his nose. “Now go.”

Jaemin trips out of bed and into the shower, a smile on his face. He doesn’t get Renjun’s aversion to bodily fluids but it’s hard for Jaemin to relate after all. The woman he’d killed last night had been a screamer and her carotid artery had splattered all over him when he tried to get her to shut up with his knife. 


	3. I will not ask you where you came from I will not ask you, neither should you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It starts with one file. 
> 
> It doesn't end there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor edits made in chapter 2, the whole fic has been outlined and we are looking at about six chapters though i may switch that up for Maximum Cliffhanger Effect.  
> i've had the worst month really so this is just so so unedited, my beta did her best, which is a hell of a lot, but it's still really rough and that's all my fault.  
> please dont expect the next chapter from me until finals are done bc honestly ive pretty much forgotten what a computer screen looks like without a wall of code covering it and i am uploading this half dead.

_**Jeno** _

It starts with one file. 

When Jeno gets into the precinct, it’s dark. The night crew is drifting around here and there, and no one stops him when he rushes to the evidence room. Maybe he looks harried enough that no one _wants_ to. 

Jeno remembers exactly which file he’d been thinking of. The first one that had come to mind when he started the third short story. It had been a couple of months ago, late at night, and Jeno had just been about to get off shift when the call had come in. A man in his thirties had been found under the docks, screwed into one of the posts by his hands. Cause of death had been blood loss from the wound in his hands and hypothermia. It was a troubling case because he’d been there long enough, rotting body masked by the smell of fish and fuel and smoke from the ships, that no one had noticed. The evidence, along with most of the body, had decayed away and there was nothing, absolutely nothing to go on. No witnesses, no murder weapon, nothing. 

The story however, had been about a woman, an old headmistress who’d despised her students and her job and who had made a deal with the devil. In the story, it had been the devil, cleverly disguised as a smooth talking, handsome stranger in a suit, who had offered her wealth and an escape from her boring reality if she only dared to harm a student. The woman had done it, and in doing so, had paid the price. 

Different story, steeped in enough fantasy to warp the connection, but the details were eerily similar. 

Jeno stares down at the photos, nausea rising up his throat, before he grabs his notepad, flicking through the messy scribbles before turning around to hunt for the next file. 

It started with one file. 

It doesn't end there.

The second file has a connection to the fifth story. Not _as_ much though. Jeno stares down at the cause of death, his fingers tracing over the typed letters: strangulation, asphyxiation. The bruises on the victim's neck stand out, dark blue purple. Jeno swallows and flips to the correct page in Renjun Huang's book. The man hadn't been strangled but he had died of asphyxiation. Not close enough, not nearly close enough.

He lets out a tiny growl of frustration and sits up on his heels to fumble at the next box of cold cases and sits back down.

The frustrating thing is, Jeno finds enough matches, nearly _every_ single murder or disappearance in Huang's book has similarities to a cold case but they're not _close_. There are hints here and there, matching murder weapons, cause of death, _something_ that manages to tie itself to a particular case above all else, but it's not enough. It's elusive enough to be counted as coincidence, feeble enough to be waved out of court, and with every passing hour that Jeno sits there, flipping through file after file, writing down the things that jump out at him, his frustration only manages to grow.

The chilling realisation Jeno finally clocks into at about four in the morning, slumping down to his butt and leaning against the cool concrete wall of the evidence room is this: that sweet, pretty writer Jeno had made a fool of himself of, the writer whose book Jeno had spent the past six months devouring, _that_ person could very well be responsible for all of these murders.

Goosebumps break out over Jeno's skin and he swallows around the uncomfortable block in his throat as he reaches for an already passed over file. He's no stranger to awful human beings, to horrible deeds being done for seemingly no reason at all; it's all part of his job, and Jeno had learned early on to separate his work life from his actual life - to not let the edges bleed through together, to let them mix. But this time, Jeno had actively sought out a potential murderer. Had stood right in front of him and blushed at his pretty smile, all without knowing or suspecting a single thing about him.

Nausea rises in his throat, and Jeno coughs a little to try and work around it before shoving his glasses haphazardly off and rubbing at his burning eyes. He needs a break. Just ten minutes and then he can go back to this.

Ten minutes. That's all.

"- fuck is he doing here?"

A snort. "He looks awful."

There's a small shuffling and Jeno frowns, still mostly asleep. His neck hurts and whoever is there won't stop _talking_.

"Is he in his pajamas?" Comes an incredulous voice, and Jeno lets out a tiny groan, reaching up to bat at whoever is standing in his room.

Then he remembers. His eyes snap open, immediately filling up with tears as they burn from the bright light.

Doyoung and Yuta stand above him, the former's arms crossed over his chest, a frown on his face, and the latter smirking beside his husband.

"Doyoung?" Jeno croaks, rubbing at his eyes, trying to get them to focus. He scrabbles blindly around for his glasses. Doyoung holds them out and Jeno blinks blearily up at him before he shoves them onto his face. "What are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here, is the real question, I think," Doyoung says, concern etched all over his face. "Why are you sleeping in the evidence room, Jeno?"

Jeno looks down at himself, the files from last night - early this morning, really - still scattered around him. He's in his pajama pants and sometime during the night he'd taken off his shoes revealing bright blue socks patterned with bears.

Then he remembers and he straightens up suddenly, making Doyoung flinch back. "Oh," Jeno says loudly, scrambling around. "Oh god, Doyoung, I think I got it."

"Got what?" Doyoung asks carefully. "Why were you in the evidence room?"

"I was trying to find something," Jeno mutters, shuffling around the files to find the first one, the one that had first piqued his interest.

"That's evident," Yuta snorts.

Jeno finally finds the file and stumbles to his feet, grabbing the book with a low noise of triumph. "Okay," he says, flipping to the correct page. "Read this story."

"Jeno, I don’t have _time_ -" Doyoung begins.

"No, I know," Jeno insists. "But just - _trust_ me, okay? Just read it first, it's only like twenty pages."

Even Yuta seems skeptical, but he and Doyoung sit down at the processing table, huddling over the book while Jeno cleans up the mess on the floor behind him. It takes a while, since they clearly aren't as interested in the writing as Jeno was - despite Doyoung having been the one to recommend Huang's first book to Jeno in the first place - but when Jeno gets back from the bathroom, face washed and his hair forced back into a semblance of normalcy with a lot of cold water, Doyoung and Yuta have finished reading.

"Okay," Yuta says, slowly, looking up at Jeno as he enters. "I mean, it's a good story but I don't see what-"

Jeno slams the file down on the table. "It's the same," he tells them, barely able to keep to his voice stable. It wouldn't do good to look excited over this, especially not after how they found him. Doyoung would just put him on another forced vacation, just like he'd done after Jeno had nearly passed out in the station trying to solve a string of arsons. "It's the exact same case, right down to the details."

"And it's not the only one," he goes on as Yuta reaches out for the file, a strange look on his face. "Nearly all of the stories in that book have a matching cold case."

Doyoung looks at him. "Jeno-" he starts but Jeno cuts him off again.

"No, it's not like last time, I'm not overextending myself," he tells Doyoung. "Trust me, I've been reading this guy's book nonstop for the last six months, you think I wouldn't notice if something was off?"

Doyoung seems to take that proclamation with a grain of salt, if his expression is anything to go by, but he does look at the file. Jeno collapses into the chair opposite them as he and Yuta pore over the details. He's so exhausted and has no earthly idea what time it is, but he's sure he didn't manage to get more than a couple hours of sleep.

"Okay," Doyoung says, finally shutting the file. He and Yuta glance at each other, seeming to exchange a whole conversation between them before turning back to Jeno. "Look, I can see where you're coming from but..." He sighs. "But Jeno, this isn't enough. This is all circumstantial evidence, and it's all built on a book that has demons and devils as part of the plot, you _had_ to know that wouldn't work."

Jeno stares at him.

"I know," he admits finally, slumping against the back of his seat. "But it's _something_ isn't it?"

"Barely," Yuta corrects. "It's barely anything. You can't open a case on this, it would just be seen as targeting the writer for writing a fictional novel."

Jeno opens his mouth to argue but Doyoung cuts him off. "Seriously, don't waste your time on this. If any other cases come up that actually seem to have ties to him, you can pursue it, but until then-"

"Let it go."

There's a beat.

"Yeah," Doyoung says and his expression isn't unkind. "Let it go, Jeno."

Jeno sighs. The book gleams up at him, the glossy cover glinting under the bright lights. The file lays there, blank and unassuming, and Jeno feels distinctly as if he's being mocked by a piece of paper.

"Fine," he says, looking away. "I'll let it go."

Jeno does not let it go.

He emphatically does not let anything go.

In fact, he does the worst possible thing and takes the cold cases home with him on his next shift and doesn't let a single fucking thing _go_.

Objectively, he knows that Doyoung and Yuta are right. That he doesn't have nearly enough cause to move forward with this bare wisp of a case, but no matter what he does, he can't let it go. Renjun Huang's smiling face sticks in the back of his mind all the fucking time, like bubble gum, clinging and clinging to the back of Jeno's brain, bright pink and attention grabbing.

He's pretty sure that Doyoung knows he hasn't given it up either, but neither of them say anything. Though Jeno does catch Doyoung's lingering glances from time to time, from across the precinct, watching him.

Then, weeks after the conversation with Doyoung and Yuta, long enough that it kind of fades from Jeno’s mind, long enough that Doyoung stops looking at him as if he’s going to blow up the city, another victim turns up. 

This time, left on the fire escape of her apartment, slowly bleeding out to the grimy street below.

 _It was a slow death,_ the coroner tells him, when Jeno goes to pick up the autopsy report. _She didn't die easily_.

And Jeno burns up inside all the way back to the precinct, the report staring back up at him from the passenger seat of the old cop car he'd been shunted with on the first week on the force and had never been given a chance to upgrade, until he gets back inside and walks calmly over to his computer - because _nothing_ goes unnoticed in a police station - to look up Renjun Huang's current address.

The girl had been 26, a shiny new ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.

It took him a month to start forgetting, and in that month, someone else had died. 

So, yeah. Jeno doesn't let anything fucking go.

The weeks now go like this: Work, home, work, stake out. Rinse and repeat every single day, until Jeno feels like he’s going out of his mind. He’s pretty much memorised the inside of his car at this point, knows the _details_ of the three parallel scratches from the one time he tried to take his cat for a ride, knows how long he has before the gas will start to run out and he’ll have to turn his car off and resort to the sticky cold weather suddenly thrust upon them in January. 

Renjun Huang’s house sits across the drive, a tiny townhouse style apartment on the fringe of the most clustered part of downtown, with a large window looking straight into the room where Huang seems to spend all his time. Jeno blinks against the binoculars and sighs, pulling away, his eyes burning. 

It’s been nearly a month of this. Of sitting in this car, waiting and waiting. Either Jeno has been extraordinarily unlucky or Renjun Huang just simply does _not leave his house_. 

All Jeno has managed to glimpse is Huang wandering outside a few times to water the plants that, sitting right below the visible room, are so dead not even the limp garden hose Huang levels at them seem to do any good, but he keeps coming out, still clad in ratty pajamas and an overlarge shirt that seems to swallow his tiny frame. 

Jeno swallows around a dry throat and looks down. Looks away. 

It’s not good that he’s still attracted to a potential murderer. 

He heaves a breath, rolling his shoulders back, preparing to slide the key back into the ignition and leave, when another car pulls up. 

Jeno fumbles for his binoculars and presses them hastily to his face. 

The figure gets out of the car, waves to the driver and waits until it speeds off to turn back to the apartment. 

Jeno fiddles with his binoculars, managing to zoom in. His mouth drops open. 

The door opens and Huang greets the figure with a smile, leaning up to exchange a kiss. 

Jeno’s binoculars slip from his fingers at the same time his heart stops. 

_**Jaemin** _

“Baby.”

Jaemin grunts, the pan slipping from his fingers a little when Renjun bumps into him, his forehead resting against Jaemin’s back. 

“You’re awake?” Jaemin questions. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” He has no idea when Renjun came to bed, but it was certainly long, long after Jaemin himself had gone to bed, pressing a kiss to a distracted Renjun’s forehead.

“I smelled eggs,” Renjun mumbles, and as if on cue, his stomach rumbles loudly and pointedly. Jaemin breathes out a soft laugh and turns around to steer Renjun back to the couch. 

“Go sit,” he says. “I’ll make breakfast and then you can go back to sleep.”

Renjun whines as he curls up on the couch, pushing his feet between the crook of the arm and seat. “‘Kay,” he sighs, eyes already slipping shut again. 

Jaemin smiles down at him for a second before he goes back to the kitchen, catching the eggs just before they start to brown. 

“What are you doing today?” Renjun asks, when they’re nearly done with breakfast. He’s eating sluggishly, eyes slipping shut between every other bite, and Jaemin would bet his favourite cleaver that Renjun was probably still awake when the sun rose. 

Jaemin shrugs. “Work,” he says. “What else?” 

“Aren’t you late?” Renjun frowns, casting a bleary look at the clock hanging on the wall in their kitchen. 

“I pushed the morning shift onto someone else,” Jaemin says with a tiny grin. “As the owner, I _should_ get some perks, shouldn’t I?”

Renjun hums in agreement.

“You’re going back to sleep, right?” Jaemin asks him with a narrow look. 

Renjun fidgets. “I mean,” he says, casting a look behind him to the writing room. “I’m already up so I was just -”

“Nope,” Jaemin shakes him. “Absolutely not, you are going straight back to bed.”

“But, Jaemin, I have to _write_ -”

“It’s been like four months since your last book came out-”

“Three months,” Renjun says mulishly. 

Jaemin continues, undeterred. “And you can go for a _day_ without writing yourself to death.” Renjun opens his mouth to protest, but Jaemin pushes back from his seat, dropping his fork and pulling Renjun up. “Bed,” he orders, shepherding Renjun back to their bedroom. 

“My eggs,” Renjun whines, his socked feet sliding along the floor as Jaemin pushes him along. 

“You were nearly done,” Jaemin shoots back. He nudges open the door and gently shoves Renjun on the bed, waiting until he wriggles around to pull the covers over him. “Sleep well, baby,” he murmurs, kissing the tip of Renjun’s nose. 

Renjun smiles up at him, before it fades as he gives into sleep. 

The day goes by slowly after that. Jaemin leaves for work a couple of hours afterward, checking in on a still deeply asleep Renjun before carefully locking the door behind him.

Work is simple, easy. There’s not much that goes into running a butcher shop and even less now that Jaemin can afford to hire employees, but he still likes getting his hands dirty and likes chatting with the regulars who come in. There’s an older woman who runs a very popular cooking show on Youtube and has a line of several cookbooks and she drops in once or twice a week, dressed in the most outrageous print fur coats matching heels that Jaemin always has to try very hard not to smile at, to order pounds of exotic and organic meat. At the end of last year, she had gifted Jaemin one of her cookbooks as thanks and Jaemin had actually used some of her recipes since. A terrifying lady, she absolutely was, but she also made up for about ten percent of Jaemin’s profits all on her own. 

There are a few other regulars that come by, though none as garishly recognisable as the food blogger. An elderly man who likes a very special type of sausage for his grandmother’s pasta recipe, a young, harried looking woman who comes in several times a week to order specialty ribs and steaks for her boss, and several more that Jaemin knows by name and face. He likes making conversation with them. Most people are dreadfully boring to him; their life stories couldn’t bore him less, and most of the time Jaemin can hardly bring himself to care - Renjun being the sole exception in matters like these. But his regulars… Jaemin likes them. 

Well, he would never kill them and that’s about as good as a guarantee as he can make. 

But today is not a chatting kind of day. Hardly anyone ventures in and the clock ticks by dreadfully slow. By the time it nears five in the evening, Soobin is slumped over the counter, blatantly watching kitten videos on his phone. 

“Go home,” Jaemin sighs, coming out from the back of the store, slinging the towel over his shoulder. There’s faint bloodstains on it but he’s been working in the back all day, handling meat and Jaemin would be more surprised if there were no stains on it, to be honest.

Soobin looks up from his phone in surprise. “I’ve still got another hour though,” he says. 

Jaemin waves him off. “Just go,” he says. “There’s no one here, it’s Friday tomorrow and I can finish up the work in the back, go get some rest.”

Soobin straightens, grinning at him. “Thanks, Jaemin!” He says cheerfully, rushing around to the back to clock out. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” Soobin calls as he grabs his bag and heads out the front door, waving back at Jaemin with a wide smile. 

Jaemin waves him out the door before he sighs, heading to the back room to clear up the mess he’d made trying to carve a whole pig open. He’s been getting too restless these days and Renjun being as sleep deprived and generally zombie like as he has been, has only added to Jaemin’s energy building up. 

He needs to let loose. 

The cleaver cracks through bone with a sharp noise and lands neatly on the wooden board. Jaemin stares at the trembling handle, the ring of vibrations still thrumming through the store, before he makes the decision. There’s an itch at the back of his neck, deep enough under the skin that he can’t scratch at it, and insistent enough that he can’t ignore him. 

His whole body hums in restless agitation.

Jaemin cleans up.

Time to let go. 

There are very few things Jaemin likes more than killing. 

Renjun is obviously the top of the list. Having sex with Renjun is a close second and tied with kising Renjun and seeing Renjun smile - basically anything to do with Renjun occupies the top ten on Jaemin’s list. Next, comes the feeling of bone crack under his hands, that building pressure, going up, up, up before it finally snaps, leaving Jaemin with a strong sense of self satisfaction and a new cut of meat. A few more mundane things, like reading Renjun’s books months before they’re ever released but nothing else really matters in Jaemin’s mind. 

He’s always been praised for having great focus after all. 

When Jaemin had been younger he’d had a therapist. It hadn’t been for any special reason. Jaemin hadn’t had a history of killing small animals or burning butterflies wings or any of the other symptoms he’d read about disinterestedly in his college library. He’d had nightmares. Paralyzing, night terrors that made him afraid to sleep, had caused him to sneak into the kitchen after his parents had fallen asleep and drink horrible, bitter coffee just to stay awake. 

His therapist was a young woman, fresh out of college, with pretty blonde hair curling down to her waist and wide blue eyes that spoke of wanting to save the world with her soft spoken words and pretty phrases. Jaemin had liked her a lot. She hadn’t helped in any way at making his night terrors go away - those would only be solved by a rather special antidote that Jaemin would figure out a couple years later - but she was soothing and Jaemin liked spending a quiet hour with her every week. 

She died on Jaemin’s graduation day. Failed brake lines took her car over the side of a hill and the burst engine incinerated her body into ash. Jaemin had received the news at home that night, and he’d stared with blank eyes at the wall while his mother covered her mouth in horror and burst into tears. 

That night, the night of Jaemin’s graduation day, the day his therapist died, was the night Jaemin’s nightmares stopped. 

He thinks of her now, of her wide blue eyes, of her pretty pink lips stretching into a warm smile as a similar looking woman gasps for air, blood spurting gracelessly around her, dirtying the ground. Jaemin smirks down at her and watches. 

Funny, how some things come full circle, isn’t it?

The walk back to the shop is quick. 

Jaemin likes the nighttime. It’s unsettling to most people, has them looking over their shoulders every few seconds as if the shadows might jump out at them, transforming into a fearsome beast, or even worse, a human with fearsome wants. Jaemin is that kind of human though and he revels in the dark. 

His phone rings as he waits for crosswalk to turn green, only a couple of blocks from the store and he picks up without looking down at the caller id. There’s only one person who knows this phone’s number anyway. 

“What?”

“You did it again, didn’t you?

Jaemin smirks. “They found out already? My, my, maybe there is something to be said about the pigs.”

There’s a growl. “You’re becoming too obvious, what is this, the third one this month?”

Jaemin shifts on his feet, glancing down at his nails. They’re spotless. “Yeah.”

“You need to slow down, I’m serious, Jaemin.”

Jaemin pauses. “What do you know?” 

“Nothing-”

“Bullshit,” Jaemin cuts him off. The crosswalk glints green and Jaemin steps onto the street. “I’ve been doing this forever and _now_ you’re on my case? What changed?”

“Renjun’s been using your ideas in his book.”

Silence. 

“I know,” Jaemin says. 

“People are noticing, idiot,” the voice snarls. “You didn’t seriously think you could keep going forever this way?” 

Jaemin shrugs. “I’ll tell him to stop, then.” The store’s front looms around the corner and Jaemin digs around in his pocket for his keys. 

“Or better yet,” the voice snaps and Jaemin smirks. He does so love making people’s patience snap, it’s endlessly amusing. “Stop fucking killing people yourself for a bit, take a goddamn break, get a hobby.”

“This _is_ my hobby,” Jaemin points out, unlocking his front door. He left his thing here and he doesn’t want to have to come back for it in the morning, even if it is farther from the subway. 

“Find a different one.” The line goes dead. 

Jaemin sighs and shuts the phone down. It’s a cheap flip phone, one that snaps in half easily when Jaemin puts pressure on it. He pockets both pieces, to dispose of later and goes to get his things. 

When he’s in the back, the front door bell jingles and Jaemin straightens, a warning heat starting to prickle down his arms as he swivels to stare at the direction to the front, his view blocked by the wall between the register and the back room. The cleaver feels heavy and weighty in his hand when Jaemin picks it up. 

He carefully steps out into the front. 

His mouth drops open. 

“ _Jeno_?” He demands, cleaver dropping from his hand to land harmlessly on the counter. 

Jeno Lee pushes back his hood and shoves in his hands in his pocket, his eyes serious and dark. “Jaemin,” he says. “It’s been a long time.”

“Three years long,” Jaemin says disbelievingly. “What are you doing here?” 

Jeno sends him a tight little smile. “I needed to talk to you. It’s important.”

“What about?” Jaemin asks. He stares at Jeno, his ex boyfriend of two _years_ and can’t remember the last time he felt this off balance. But Jeno always did have a way of making him feel like he was walking on foam, his whole gravity thrown off, but his mind spinning in delight.

Jeno sighs and straightens. “I need to talk to you about Renjun Huang.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kill bill sirens play faintly in the distance


	4. I am a man-eater, I own them from the start but somehow this handsome fucker got his grip around my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaemin raises an eyebrow. "So" he says deliberately, leaning against the counter. "Does this mean, Renjun, that you have just forced me into a meal where only my ex boyfriend and current boyfriend are present?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof . okay. this chapter is a weird one. 
> 
> there are a lot of time skips and a lot of relationship development that happens off screen because it couldn't happen ON SCREEN because then i would go over the word limit and we would end up with a 50k fic. so. i do apologise for that, but i tried to make it happen in a way that was believable and i dont think i entirely succeeded.

**__** _5 Weeks Later_

**__** **_Jaemin_ **

“Jaemin.”

“He’s not what you think he is.”

Jeno’s sigh can be heard even over the bustle of people around them, the morning rush loud and crowded. 

“Why don’t you just believe me?” Jeno demands, stepping up closer to Jaemin. Jaemin glances sideways at him, a faint hum running down his spine when he sees Jeno’s eyes dark and fixed on Jaemin’s face. “I’ve shown you the evidence -”

“Which you yourself admitted was circumstantial-”

“And I told you, you were in _danger_ -”

“I can protect myself -”

“And you _still_ aren’t listening to me!” Jeno grabs Jaemin’s shoulder and forces him to look at him. 

Jaemin raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you done?” He asks lazily, a smile bubbling up at the edges when Jeno gets visibly frustrated, his jaw tightening. Oh, he does adore this. It’s been over a month of this, of winding Jeno up, of watching him dance around and around for him. Jaemin enjoys it - more than he thought he would. It’s ever so amusing.

“No,” Jeno growls, bristling at the edges, pushing his cap off his head and running his hand roughly through his hair in frustration. 

It also doesn’t hurt that Jeno’s only gotten more attractive in the time they spent apart. 

“You can be done,” Jaemin offers, turning back to the subway platform. He glances at his watch and rolls his eyes. The train is late again. “I trust my boyfriend, I love my boyfriend and unless you bring me solid proof - _not_ some random murder in a book he wrote half a year ago - I’m really not going to believe you.”

Jeno lets out a noise of irritation but Jaemin rolls his eyes, forcing the smirk back. There’s a whorl of worry in the pit of his stomach though. Jeno is going to be a problem, a big one, as if he isn’t one already. And Jaemin doesn’t like the way Jeno’s staring at the floor, unblinkingly. 

The rumble of the train nears and Jaemin steps forward, up to the line as the crowd mills around them, pushing Jeno closer against him. There’s a commotion behind them and Jaemin turns just in time to see someone run past him and Jeno, a blur of nothing before they’re jumping over the edge. Somehow, Jaemin knows what’s going to happen before anyone else even moves and he jumps forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Jeno as Jeno lunges for the figure. 

“No!” Jeno yells just as the train whizzes by. There’s screams and Jaemin just manages to keep holding on, his fingers slipping on Jeno’s slick jacket before he regains his strength and yanks him back, away from the edge. 

“Jeno, _stop_ ,” Jaemin yells desperately. The crowd is going insane around them and Jeno’s eyes are wide when he whips around to Jaemin. 

“Why did you stop me?” He demands, shoving at Jaemin’s shoulders hard enough to bruise but Jaemin doesn’t let go. 

“And let you jump in along with him?” Jaemin snaps back, fighting back the panic rising in his throat. He digs his fingers into Jeno’s sides and pulls him back as the security guards start swarming around them. Jeno’s still staring back at the platform when Jaemin finally manages to drag him out of the crowd and up the stairs. Only when they reach the top, exiting into the sunlight does he let Jeno go. 

Jeno is shaking. “I could have helped,” he spits.

“You would have died,” Jaemin responds dispassionately, all the adrenaline flowing out of him now that they were at street level.

Jeno levels a final glare at him before he storm away, leather jacket whipping in the wind and Jaemin watches him go, flexing his hands as he does so. They itch because milliseconds before Jaemin had caught Jeno, he’d considered pushing him into the path of the train. He doesn’t know why he stopped himself. 

Hmm. Jaemin turns the opposite way and decides to walk home. Well, that was a thing to consider. 

_**Renjun** _

There’s something about Kroger that makes Renjun feel inexplicably comforted. Maybe it’s because he left the house for the first time in a fortnight and it’s nice to feel fresh air - read: recycled air that smells inexplicably like ice cream. Jaemin is somewhere in the cheese section because he refuses to ‘stoop to shredded cheese level’. Regardless, it’s nice to get out of the house, and he’s kind of excited about having Donghyuck over for dinner after several months.

Renjun spies movement behind him when he’s considering whether to just risk buying the boxed mac and cheese and not eat when he’s in a writing haze or splurge for the cup ones and actually eat. 

“Babe,” he says, not turning around. “This isn’t worth it. I’ll just without eating when I’m under duress.”

“You’re Renjun Huang.” Comes a voice behind him, terse and far too close and Renjun jumps, the boxed mac and cheese falling from his fingers with a dull thud as he lets out a tiny scream.

“Oh my god,” he chokes out, jumping back when he sees a face close to him. “What the fuck?” 

The face clears, guiltily, pulling back. “I’m sorry,” the man says, tugging the sleeves of his leather jacket down over his wrists. It doesn’t really give way but Renjun pauses at it, frowning. This is familiar. The man clears his throat. “I know you though, don’t I? You’re Renjun Huang?”

“You’re the guy from the bookstore,” Renjun says slowly, narrowing his gaze. "The one from the signing."

A look of surprise. "You remember me?

Renjun chooses not to expose himself and his weaknesses for cute boys with glasses and settles for a nod. "I don't remember your name though," he says, leaning down to pick up the box of mac and cheese.

"Jeno," the man says, a sweet smile curving over his face. "Jeno Lee. I"m sorry for surprising you, I'm just - god this is so embarrassing. I'm just a fan."

"It's not," Renjun shrugs before hesitating. "Well, I could have done without the mini heart attack, but."

"Hey, babe," Jaemin's voice comes as he rounds the corner. "I found the Gruyere. We can finally make that thing Donghyuck likes..." His voice trails off as he nears Renjun and Jeno.

"Hey," Renjun greets him. "This is the the reader I was telling you about. His name is-"

"Jeno," Jaemin says tightly and Renjun glances up at him, surprised. Jaemin's eyes are hard and glittering, a dark diamond and a muscle jumps in his jaw. "What are you doing here?"

"You two know each other?" Renjun asks curiously.

Jeno starts to talk but Jaemin cuts across him easily. "He was my ex, before you," he says, before glancing down at Renjun and offering him a smile. His gaze is blank though, anger still fracturing behind his eyes. "Obviously no comparison," he says with a faint flicker of amusement. 

"Ah," Renjun says. "Jaemin's mentioned you, actually," he says to Jeno, nudging closer to Jaemin, and slipping a hand around his waist. Jaemin tenses and then all at once, relaxes into his hold. Renjun's not fooled though. "He was quite fond of you."

Jeno coughs, a flush of pink running over his cheeks. "Yeah, um - we didn't end on bad terms or anything," he fumbles. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have intruded."

"No, it's no worry," Renjun says brightly. "It's nice to see old friends, isn't it Jaemin?"

"Sure," Jaemin allows easily. "It has been a while since we saw each other."

Renjun nods before a thought occurs to him. "You should come over to dinner," he offers.

"What?" Jaemin says while Jeno starts spluttering.

"Why not?" Renjun teases, tightening his fingers on Jaemin's waist so they press in uncomfortably. "It'll be fun, you haven't seen each other in years, I bet. And Jeno's a fan, I'd love to ask what he thought of my new book."

"Oh," Jeno says hurriedly. "No, I really couldn't."

"You can," Renjun insists. "I have other friends coming as well, so it won't be awkward. I barely know anyone from Jaemin's past, it'll be so fun to hear his embarrassing college stories." He digs his fingers in harder and Jaemin lets out a harsh breath through his nose.

"You can," he offers tightly. "Seriously."

Jeno blinks and then blushes again, harder. How a fully grown man in a leather jacket can look cute while blushing, Renjun has no idea. But that doesn't mean he isn't going to fully enjoy the view.

"Okay," Jeno says carefully. "I'd love to."

"Is there a reason you were trying to rip my ribs out of my skin?" Jaemin asks when they're loading their things in the trunk of the car. Only recently had they both broken down, sick of taking the subway and buses, and had shelled out for a car. Renjun had spent the whole negotiation staring blankly at the salesman while Jaemin had smiled his shark's smile.

It was an entertaining afternoon to say the least.

"You weren't doing what I wanted," Renjun says, hooking the milk bags up to the roof of the trunk. 

"Because I didn't want him to come to dinner!" Jaemin exclaims as they get in the front seat, slamming the car door loudly after him. Renjun shoots him a look but Jaemin ignores it. "I don't want to spend an evening with my ex boyfriend, Renjun! Why do _you_?"

Renjun smirks. "I thought it was funny," he says. "Besides, _that's_ the boy I told you about. The cute one."

There's a beat and then Jaemin sighs, dropping his head down on the steering wheel. "There are a million men in this city," he says. "Why is the one you want to fuck _my_ _ex_ _boyfriend_?"

"You've got good taste, babe, what can I say?" Renjun shrugs. "He's pretty."

Jaemin's answering groan gets drowned out by Renjun turning on NPR and deliberately flicking up the volume.

Jaemin is in the shower when Donghyuck calls.

"Aren't you already supposed to be here?" Renjun asks, casting a glance at the clock.

"Don't hate me," comes Donghyuck's voice, crackling on the other end. "I can't make it tonight."

"What?" Renjun demands. "You know I actually showered today? I left the house to make dinner for you!"

"I know, I know," Donghyuck moans. "I'm _sorry_. I would send Jisung in my stead but he's god knows where right now trying to fit into his leg warmers." There's a loud thud and Donghyuck growls. "Sorry," he says coming back into range. "I'm sorry Jun, I would come if I could, you know it, but work came up and I can't push this aside."

"You can't push me aside either," Renjun says mulishly and Donghyuck lets out several noises of agreement. Renjun sighs heavily through his nose. "Fine," he says tightly. "But you are buying the next _three_ lunches to deal with this."

"Absolutely," Donghyuck agrees before blowing him a noisy kiss and hanging up.

"Donghyuck's not showing," Renjun tells Jaemin when he gets out of the shower. "Something came up at work."

Jaemin raises an eyebrow. "So" he says deliberately, leaning against the counter. "Does this mean, Renjun, that you have just forced me into a meal where only my ex boyfriend and current boyfriend are present?"

Renjun offers him a tentative smile. "I love you?" He offers.

Jaemin glowers.

_**Jeno** _

In all his life, Jeno never thought he would enter the house of a suspected serial killer. Which was also the house of his ex. And the house of the cute writer he'd had a crush on for a year. None of this had ever occurred to Jeno but as he sits at the dining table, Jaemin smiling widely at him, and Renjun chattering about nothing and everything, he thinks this exact scenario should be covered in police training manuals everywhere. 

Because he has no idea what the fuck to do.

Jeno takes a shaky breath and tries to compose himself, while Renjun passes the quiche over to him with a sparkling eyes.

Here were the facts:

1) Renjun Huang could be a serial killer.

Unfortunately, Jeno had no hard evidence of this, and his months of staking out the house had given him no further proof. Besides, Renjun seems to be very happy responding to all of Jeno's questions about his writing and even pulls out his notes to let Jeno peruse over.

2) The aforementioned notes are devoid of anything suspicious. 

This was particularly disappointing.

3) Jaemin was very angry with him.

Jeno glances at Jaemin, whose smile is still fixed on his face, wide and shiny, and then shovels a mouthful of egg into his mouth. Years apart had not blessed Jeno with ignorance of Jaemin's mannerisms and Jeno, unfortunately, was sitting across from a very, _very_ pissed off Jaemin.

4) Jeno was kind of screwed.

No further elucidation needed really. He had no idea how to get out of here without seeming rude and there was also the nagging realisation at the back of his head that the only lead in a case he had been obsessed with for months and months now was probably a dead end.

"So, Jeno," Renjun says brightly. "I'm sorry about the lack of people, I know I promised you no awkwardness but the friend that was supposed had a work emergency. Though," he continues. "I have no idea what kind of emergency Donghyuck would be facing."

"Maybe Dominos needed to protect their sauce recipe," Jaemin offers and Renjun laughs, throwing back his head. Jeno follows for a moment, transfixed, before cocking his head in confusion.

"What?"

"Oh, Donghyuck's a hacker," Jaemin says. "An ethical one, mind you, he gets hired by companies to test their firewalls and security, things like that." He smirks at Jeno. "Nothing to call the station about."

"Oh," Jeno says. "Haha, that _is_ funny." The words sound wooden coming out of his mouth and Jeno winces.

"The station?" Renjun says. "You're a cop, Jeno?"

"A detective, yeah," Jeno nods, hurriedly swallowing the large mouthful he'd taken, eyes burning a little when the hot food scrapes down his throat.

"Oh," Renjun positively glows and Jeno quails. How can someone he's thought of as a killer for so long be so pretty? "That's so interesting! Do you mind if I pick your brain for a bit? I'd love to know how to write a detective more realistically."

Jeno glances at Jaemin who smirks into his quiche before turning back to Renjun. "Of course," he says. "I'd love to help out my favourite author."

Renjun blushes prettily and Jeno feels himself falling all over again.

There really should have been a police manual about this.

By the time they get to dessert, Renjun's filled up pages upon pages of notes and Jeno's throat is dry from talking so much. Jaemin has just been silently watching them, interjecting a few times here and there but for the most part he just observes. It's interesting to watch him and Renjun as a couple. Jeno can see how someone like Jaemin - who subsists on caring for others and that very specific brand of attention - would work well with Renjun.

Renjun's bright, that much is clear. He's intelligent and thoughtful and asks questions Jeno had never even considered the answers too but it's also very obvious when he gets lost in his own thoughts, muttering to himself when certain things occur to him. Jaemin gets him back on track with a gentle nudge here and there and it works. Just the two of them. They work perfectly.

Jeno frowns down at his hand when he clocks into the small dull pang in the center of his chest, echoing throughout his whole body. Strange.

His phone rings just as Renjun starts scribbling another answer to himself and Jeno apologises as he pulls his phone out to see Doyoung calling him.

"I have to take this, it's work," he mumbles, sliding out of his seat and ducking around the corner to answer the phone. "What's up?"

"There's been another one," Doyoung says tersely. "I was in the area and someone ran up to me screaming about some kid with his throat cut."

Jeno's blood goes cold. "What?" He demands. "Same M.O?"

"Exactly," Doyoung says. "It's like they're not even trying to be subtle at this point."

"I'm on my way," Jeno promises before hanging up and hurrying back out to Jaemin and Renjun. "I'm so sorry, I have to go," he says in a rush. "There was a - I have to go, I'm sorry."

"No, of course," Renjun says with wide eyes. He drops his book and wrings his hands. "Is there - do you need anything from us?"

"No," Jeno says, shaking his head. "No, this was lovely, and I'm sorry but I really have to go."

"Here."

Jeno turns to see Jaemin holding his coat out. "I'll walk you out," he offers and Jeno glances up at him and knows not to say no.

When the front door to the apartment shuts, Jeno immediately turns around, holding up his hands as if that would placate Jaemin. "I'm sorry," he says.

"What the fuck, Jeno," Jaemin snaps, walking forward until he is well into Jeno's personal space. Jeno doesn't move away. "I get that you have an unhealthy obsession with Renjun but that does not excuse _stalking_ him."

"I'm sorry," Jeno says in a rush before Jaemin can clock him. He looks angry enough to do so. "I was wrong to do that, I just - I know it's not him, you were right."

Jaemin pauses and raises an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" He asks coolly. "What gave it away?"

Jeno looks down, a rush of shame enveloping him. He was such an idiot. Doyoung was right; he always was. Jeno had gotten too involved and he had jumped to conclusions and now-

"There was another one," he says quietly. "Tonight. Right now, actually. Same M.O."

Jaemin snorts. "Oh, so while you were sitting in my house and eating our food, Renjun was supposed to have snuck out to murder some poor person? Maybe I should get the secret to his teleportation technology, you know, before you throw him in jail for life."

"I get it," Jeno says with a wince. "I fucked up, I know."

Jaemin makes an angry noise. "Do you?" He snaps with a harsh laugh. "Good. Because I don't care what kind of shit you have to go through at work, Jeno, you don't _ever_ get to accuse Renjun of murder again. At least not without some rock hard proof."

Jeno meets his gaze. "I know," he says clearly, steadily. "I was wrong. It won't happen again and I'm sorry for trying to convince you otherwise."

There's a beat of silence. Jaemin presses his lips tightly together and then steps back. "See that it doesn't," he says. "The only reason you don't have my fist in your face right now is because Renjun thinks you're cute." He screws up his face as if that word hurts to say. "And he likes you. For some unknown reason."

"I -" _I like him too._ Jeno desperately wants to say. Because he does. Renjun is funny and cute and glossing over the fact that Jeno thought he was a murderer for a good chunk of the year, he's crazily talented and Jeno wants to see him smile again and again. But it probably would not be a good idea right now, not with Jaemin's fist inches away from him. "I have to go," he says.

Jaemin nods and moves out of the way for him. "See you, Jeno."

Jeno makes to get into his car before glancing over his shoulder at Jaemin. "I'm sorry," he says again. "Thank you. For... you know, everything."

Jaemin smiles and for the first time that day, it's a real smile and something in Jeno floods with relief at that. "Don't be an idiot, Jeno. I won't just let you go like that." A promise rings through those words and reverberates through the night, and into the cement.

Jeno ducks his head and can't stop the tiny smile that blooms over his lips. "Good to know."

The crime scene is oddly quiet when Jeno arrives. The EMT and coroner are all milling around speaking in hushed tones and Jeno silently pulls on the shoe covers and gloves handed to him before heading up the stairs.

It's an empty parking garage, old enough to hold few cameras and the ones that are actually working are nowhere near the dead body. Jeno can’t hold back the grimace when he spies the amount of blood leaking over the cement. 

“Shit,” he hisses when he nears the body.

Doyoung is crouching down, murmuring something to another detective and he looks up when he hears Jeno’s footsteps. “Hey,” he says and his voice is subdued. Something angry tugging at the end of it.

“I’m sorry I was so late,” Jeno murmurs, dropping down next to him, careful not to get his shoes in the blood.

Doyoung shrugs. “You were only a few minutes behind the rest.” 

“What did you see when you arrived?”

Doyoung breathes out. “The woman who got me, she’s over there,” he jerks his chin at the ambulances parked at the far end of the row and Jeno can just about make out an orange blanket. “The kid was already totally bled out when I got here, stone cold. My guess is he’d been here about an hour, maybe more when she found him.” Doyoung’s eyes flicker all over the body, restlessly as if he hopes he can garner some secrets, some evidence, merely by looking long enough.

“He has no type,” Jeno murmurs. “The killer.”

“Do you not think it could be a female?” Doyoung asks and Jeno shakes his head. “I don’t think so, especially not with the way the victims have been found. I checked with our profiler and she agreed. It’s not typical of a female killer.”

“People can always surprise you,” Doyoung says shortly. “Don’t rule it out.” 

Jeno blinks, surprised. “Of course,” he says. “I’m just saying, the most likely suspect is probably a male, and he has no discernable motive or discrimination when it comes to who he’s picking which just makes our search wider. And if we narrow it down to the more likely gender than we’ve got a better headstart.”

“It’s been months, Jeno,” Doyoung says tightly. “Exactly what headstart do you still think we have?”

Jeno stares at him. Doyoung hasn’t looked up from the body yet and every part of him is wound tight. “Are you okay, Doyoung?” Jeno ventures. 

Doyoung doesn’t look at him. “I’m fine,” he says. “Get the rest of the info and meet me back at the precinct when you’re done.”

Jeno watches him go, storming off behind the barricade, in a manner so very unlike him and feels a pit of dread brewing at the base of his stomach. 

Jeno is no fool. 

He knows Renjun Huang, while less probable if a suspect that before cannot be ruled out entirely. He’s pretty certainly and clearly very smart and Jeno would not put it past him to have an accomplice that had helped. But somehow, Jeno finds himself drifting farther and farther away from the possibility. Every time he thinks of trying to catch Renjun, trying to formulate another plan to catch him, or to get Jaemin to help him, all Jeno can think of is Renjun’s luminous smile and the pretty way his laugh had curled into Jeno’s ears. The way Jaemin’s hands had wrapped around Jeno’s body, pulling him away from the edge of the platform, face desperate with anger that Jeno had felt reflected in his chest. The way Jaemin has curled his hand around Jeno’s wrist outside his apartment, not pulling or tightening his grip, just holding him, the press of his fingers the complete opposite to the harsh words. 

Somehow Jeno trusts the physical more. 

And Doyoung’s actions were far more louder than his words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maneater by the blue eyed blondes plays loudly
> 
> who is who? what is happening? do you know? i certainly don't 👀


	5. c'est la mort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renjun hums. “Are you in danger?” 
> 
> The reply is instantaneous. “No.”
> 
> “Am I?”
> 
> A pause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so so so excited for this chapter !!!!!!

_A couple of months after that_

_**Jaemin** _

“Why are you taking me here again?” 

Jeno casts him a look over his shoulder and Jaemin just barely manages to school his face from disgust into bland ambivalence as they slide out of his car. “I just need to grab some files,” Jeno says. “And I thought you know, you might as well learn what it is I actually do.”

Jaemin can’t help the face he makes. “So you can accuse me of harboring a murderer again?”

“When will you let that go?” Jeno whines, cheeks flushing bright pink. “I said I was sorry. _So_ many times.”

“And yet you’ve brought me to a police precinct.”

Jeno honest to god pouts at him. It looks ridiculous on him, especially with his seemingly never ending supply of leather jackets - or maybe they’re all the same, Jaemin has to remember to ask - but Jaemin’s endeared regardless. “It’ll be ten minutes,” he promises before his eyes crinkle up at Jaemin. “No one will even try to arrest you.”

Jaemin glares at him. 

Jaemin dislikes the police. Aside from the obvious, it just irritates him to be surrounded by so many pig headed officers. Stupidity is a disease and Jaemin wants to be nowhere near it. A detective squeezes by him into the elevator, speaking rapidly into her phone and Jaemin’s skin crawls. He edges closer to Jeno. 

Glances at his watch. 11:53 am. 

“Just wait here,” Jeno says, directing Jaemin to his desk when they disembark onto the second floor. “I’ll be back soon.”

Jaemin picks up a photo frame and considers it. It’s Jeno and another man, his pink hair hanging down over his eyes. They’re both laughing and Jeno has his fingers stuck up the other’s nose. He turns it in Jeno’s direction, raising his eyebrows. “You call yourself an adult?”

Jeno snatches it from him, the tips of his ears flaming red. “Shut up,” he mutters but Jaemin notes the care with which he places it back on his desk, the fond smile that curves over his lips. 

“Jeno,” a voice calls and they both turn. 

There are two detectives walking towards them, their hands intertwined. Jaemin notes the matching rings on their fingers. Huh. 

“I need to talk to you,” the slightly taller of the two says, casting a cursory look at Jaemin before turning his attention back to Jeno.

“Me too, actually,” Jeno says, turning around quickly to gather something up from his desk. Jaemin catches a glimpse of the notes as he hastily shuffles them around and raises an eyebrow. Clearly, Jeno hadn’t given up on the case yet. “I just - Jaem do you mind waiting here for a second?” Jaemin nods and Jeno tilts his head at the detective drawing him around the corner to the hallway. Jaemin watches them go, and leans against Jeno’s desk, poking idly at the knick knacks he has scattered around before sliding off and tugging his hood up. 

The evidence room’s door is still hanging wide open and Jaemin tsks at Jeno’s carelessness before slipping in, sliding his burner phone out of his pocket. 

** You **

**** **11:53 am - entered police station**

“- all this evidence.”

“It’s still circumstantial.”

“How can you say that?” Jeno snaps, frustration in his voice. “How can you - you were _there_ Doyoung. At so many crime scenes!”

** You **

******Doyoung - Detective ?**

Doyoung’s voice grows hard. “Don’t you think I want to catch them too?”

“You seem kind of okay with letting a murderer stay loose-” 

“Okay,” the other man says, cutting in. “Let’s calm down. Jeno, don’t be unreasonable-”

“It’s not unreasonable to bring this to the captain! He already knows about the cold cases!” Jeno exclaims and Jaemin wonders what his face looks like right now. Jeno rarely ever got angry and it was always a treat to see him explode. 

“I agree,” the man says. “But Doyoung’s telling you to hold off and he’s your commanding officer.”

There’s a sigh. 

“Look,” Doyoung says. “I agree with you, okay, I _do_. But we’ve got no suspects and you say your writer is no longer an option and until we do, there’s no point in bringing it up to him. We won’t get anywhere.”

Jaemin raises an eyebrow. He didn’t think he’d done enough to dissuade Jeno from suspecting Renjun but clearly-

“Yeah,” Jeno agrees, softer. “He couldn’t - he’s not the killer.”

Jaemin smirks to himself. Clearly Renjun had done the rest on his own. 

They start discussing logistics and shifts and Jaemin walks away. He’s gotten the information he needed. 

He stops by a desk when he sees Doyoung’s face on a picture frame, smiling and hugging the other man he’d been with. Doyoung Kim reads the nameplate on the desk. Interesting. His wallet and keys are lying on the table and Jaemin slides a surreptitious look around before sliding out his driver’s license. The keys have a USB attached to them and Jaemin considers it before he hears Jeno’s voice nearing him, rounding the corner. Jaemin quickly takes a picture of the license, before dropping the wallet back on the desk and walking back slowly to Jeno’s desk. The keys he keeps.

** You **

**** **Doyoung Kim**

**DL #: 4587273**

**[Attachment]**

There’s a tap on his arm and Jaemin turns to see Jeno smiling at him, though there’s an edge of weariness to his features. “Hey,” he says. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin smiles back. “Did you get what you needed?”

Jeno sighs. “Not really,” he mumbles, leading them around the desks and back into the elevator. “It could have gone better.”

Jaemin eyes him. “Anything I can do to help?”

Jeno looks up and smiles, and this time it looks less forced. Less tired. “No,” he says. “But thanks for offering.”

“Of course,” Jaemin nudges him with his shoulder, pleased when Jeno leans into it slightly. “I’m here for you.” 

The doors slide open Jaemin glances up at the camera in the elevator, then down at his watch. It’s 12:26. 

** You **

**** **12:26 - walking out**

** Unknown **

**** **ill take care of it**

_**Renjun** _

Jaemin’s acting weird. 

It’s not an unusual thing, not really. Jaemin could be categorised as weird on any day ending in ‘y’ and Renjun’s used to it by now, to Jaemin’s off brand mode of affection, to his intensity, to the secrets that are always clawing at the back of his too big eyes, open and far too accessible as if he had nothing to hide. 

He does though. Renjun knows this. But he also knows Jaemin fairly well and pushing him never works. So Renjun holds back. He watches as Jaemin and Jeno become closer, spending free time together, and watches the hard steel in Jaemin’s eyes slowly start to melt away the more time Jeno spends at their house, eagerly soaking up Renjun’s every word, sometimes even reading drafts of chapters for him. 

He watches Jaemin grow tenser as the days pass, spending hours out of the house. He always comes back though, always slides right back into bed beside Renjun and presses a kiss to the curve of his cheek or his shoulder, and only _then_ will Renjun allow himself to drift to sleep, with Jaemin curled around him, his hand digging tightly into Renjun’s hipbone. Watches Jaemin grow ready in preparation of _something_. Something odd. Something potentially dangerous.

The bruises on his hips haven’t faded in weeks. 

He watches Jaemin plan something, whispering into his phone when he thinks Renjun isn’t noticing, watches him drift off to the butcher shop on days he doesn’t have to work, watches him watch Renjun, the same intense gleam he always has, unwavering. Steady. 

Renjun notices it all. 

And then, when months pass, when Jaemin finally eases back a little, when he finally comes home at mid afternoon, a swing in his step and a shark’s smile fixed to his canines, does Renjun finally ask. 

He’s sitting on the couch, leaning against one of the arms, peering over the edge of his laptop as Jaemin pulls off his boots. 

“You’re home early.”

Jaemin gleams when he looks at him. “I am,” he agrees, practically bounding over to the couch and curling up on the opposite side, pulling Renjun’s feet into his lap and pressing into the arches. 

Renjun observes him and then puts his laptop down on the ground. “You’ve been doing something,” he states because it isn’t a question. Jaemin looks back at him, his face neutral and void of surprise because that is also expected. Renjun knows Jaemin’s noticed him noticing. There are no secrets between them - not really. 

Jaemin nods. Once. The manic excitement has faded a little but the same intensity is always there. Renjun privately calls it his Renjun Stare because in all the three years he’s known Jaemin, he’s been the only one of the receiving end of that shark’s gaze, a little glazed, a little blank, but brimming with power. As if Renjun were the prey. 

“I have,” Jaemin agrees. 

Renjun pauses for a second. “Do I need to know about it?” It’s all about the wording. Words matter the most.

Jaemin tips his head to the side. “No,” he says. 

Renjun takes this in. “Do I _want_ to know about it?”

Jaemin still hasn’t looked away. “If you do, I’ll tell you. You know that.” 

Secrets, secrets. They are everything, even if Jaemin pretends he holds none. Even if there are none between them.

Renjun hums. “Are you in danger?” 

The reply is instantaneous. “No.” 

“Am I?”

A pause. 

Then Jaemin is pushing Renjun’s legs apart and kneeling between them, his hand coming up to cup Renjun’s cheek as he leans over him. He still hasn’t looked away. “You will never be in danger when I’m here,” Jaemin says and it sounds like a promise but it’s _more_. Renjun knows this. Jaemin doesn’t make promises. He makes vows. Oaths. Unbreakable things. Promises easily shatter under the right kind of pressure. Jaemin continues. “I’m never going to let you get hurt, I won’t ever leave you and I will never betray you.”

Renjun tips his chip up to keep their gazes locked. “Yeah?”

Jaemin stares at him and for the first time, a smile appears. “You’re mine, Renjun,” he says. “Just as I’m yours.”

A shiver crawls down Renjun’s spine and he wonders. Wonders at the inscrutable mass of intensity that Jaemin is. Wonders at what secrets he has. Wonders and wonders and wonders. 

Jaemin is still looking at him, leaning over him, caging him in. 

Renjun wonders why he’s unafraid. Wonders why he feels safe under Jaemin, encased in Jaemin’s arms. 

“You noticed.” It’s a statement.

Renjun shrugs. “I notice everything about you.” It’s hard not to. Not when Jaemin was so endlessly magnetic. Not when every part of Renjun loved him. Not after all these years. 

He picks his head up, wraps his arms around Jaemin’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss. Jaemin goes easily, lowering himself down until he’s draped all over Renjun’s body, his weight a comforting one atop Renjun, his kisses long and deep. Renjun savours every single one. 

They fuck right there on the couch, Renjun pushing Jaemin down and riding him slow and hard, tipping his head back. Jaemin runs his hands over every inch of his skin and Renjun feels like he’s sitting on a throne. 

It’s headying. 

Jaemin doesn’t look away once. 

Renjun notices. 

_**Jeno** _

Yuta has been acting strange all night. 

Jeno’s had a mountain of paperwork to deal with - old cases he hasn’t caught up on yet, stupid red tape to get around - and he’s been bent over his desk practically the whole shift, only getting up once or twice to get coffee but he notices Yuta anxiously pacing around his desk every so often, the worried look he keeps shooting at Doyoung’s empty desk. 

Finally, at the end of his shift, Jeno gets out of his chair and walks over, his legs aching and straining at the stretch. “Yuta?”

Yuta jerks up from his computer, eyes wide before he fixes on Jeno. He slumps in his chair, letting out a breath. “Jeno, hey. What’s up?” 

Jeno frowns at him. “You’ve been acting um - is everything okay? With Doyoung? You look really worried.” 

Yuta sighs and glances over at Doyoung’s desk again. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “No, I mean - I don’t know. I think the cold cases are really getting to him.”

“The serial killer?” Jeno questions. He’s noticed it as well. Doyoung has been withdrawn and snappish during the shifts they’ve shared together and the most recent victim - an elderly man with the exact same M.O - Doyoung had nearly lost his temper, yelling at the newest hire on their squad. It’s so unlike him but Jeno hadn’t known how to broach it - especially with the faint nagging sensation at the back of his mind. That gut instinct Jeno trusted above everything else. 

“Yeah,” Yuta says. His dark circles have grown more pronounced lately. “He’s becoming obsessed with it and that’s never a good thing.”

“Especially in our line of work,” Jeno agrees softly. 

Yuta nods and scrubs his hands over his face. “I’m just - I don’t know what to do,” he confesses. “I’m worried about him and he won’t let me help him and Minho won’t force him to take a break, now when our crime rates are getting higher by the minute.”

Jeno casts a look down the hall at their Captain’s closed and door and aches silently for Yuta. “I’m- I can try and talk to him,” he offers. “We’re close.”

“Could you?” Yuta asks, looking up at Jeno. “He adores you, Jeno. Maybe he’ll listen if it doesn’t come from me.” The pain in his voice is raw and Jeno can’t help but lean down and wrap his arm around Yuta’s shoulder. They’ve never been as close as Doyoung and Jeno but Jeno has known his mentor’s husband for a very long time and he’s fond of Yuta. 

“I’ll do my best,” he says. “I swear, I’ll try to help him.”

_**Jaemin** _

Renjun’s body is warm. He’s nestled in Jaemin’s arms, breathing peacefully against his neck and Jaemin is loathe to leave him. But duty calls - as it always does. 

The bedroom air hits him cold and unforgiving when Jaemin slides out of bed and he shivers a little, grabbing a hoodie and tugging the hood over his head. He retrieves his burner phone from the bedside drawer and heads outside, out to the front steps of their apartment just as the clock hits one in the morning. 

The phone rings. 

“You got everything wiped?”

There’s a snort. “You’re really fucking stupid you know that? If I wiped the security cameras at exactly the point you were in the precinct, even the stupidest cop would figure out in a second it was you who stole Kim’s keys.”

Jaemin’s lips twist. “Did you get me wiped or not?” 

“Unclench,” the voice advices. “There’s not a single trace of that whole day. Everything’s gone.” 

Jaemin sighs, leaning against the cool brick. “Good. What about everything else?”

“Its going to take some time,” the voice says coolly. “Despite what you think, it’s not easy to frame someone for murder.”

It’s Jaemin’s turn to snort. “And here I thought your skills were unparalleled.”

“They _are_ you jackass.” The voice snaps. “It’s just a little bit harder than stabbing someone through the neck and walking away.”

Jaemin smirks to himself. “Do whatever you have to do. Did the cold cases help?”

A hum. “Yeah. The encryption was kindergarten level. I almost pity them if this is the level their security’s at.”

“Makes it easy to get away with murder.”

“Which you are going to _stop_ feeding into his books, right?” The voice snaps sharply.

Jaemin stills. “I said I would.”

“Good. I’m only doing this for Renjun,” the voice says tightly. “Because you were stupid enough to get him caught and I’m not letting him get thrown in jail because you get your rocks off by killing people.”

Jaemin bites back the snarl that rises instinctively to his lips. “I know,” he says instead.“I owe you.”

“You owe me _forever_ for this,” the voice corrects. “No more giving Renjun ideas, I mean it. I’m not doing this just so you can keep running around in this same stupid hamster wheel. Next time, you might get two or three people who notice - _smart_ ones. Ones who aren’t fooled by a pretty smile - and it wont be as easy, throwing them off the trail.”

“I _know_ ,” Jaemin snaps. Pauses before grudgingly admitting, “I just wanted him to _succeed_. He’s so talented, you know that. And what better way to do that than play off real life.”

“That’s _so_ weird. You’re a freaky fucker, you know that?” 

Jaemin laughs. “You’re the one helping me.”

“Against my better judgement.”

Jaemin glances at his watch. “You’ll get it done, then? And let me know when I can finish it off?” 

“Yeah,” the voice sighs. “I’ll be alone for the next month, it’ll be easy to work it all out. Give me a bit of time though - the details need to be perfect for this one.”

“He’s leaving again?”

The first tinge of melancholy in the other’s voice. “Yeah.” 

“Hmm.” Jaemin considers, then smiles. “Thanks, Donghyuck.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Donghyuck says and the line goes dead. 

Jaemin destroys the phone before he heads back inside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who knew huh?


	6. we're just dancing in the rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Brace yourself, Jeno.” Sooyoung says finally.
> 
> Jeno frowns, uncomprehending but her next words send a chill down his spine. 
> 
> “It’s Doyoung’s address.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE FINALLY DONEEEEE IM SO EXCITED TO BE HERE.
> 
> thank you so much for this comm, it was a challenge for me and i had a lot of fun writing it. it is so late so i promise i will catch up with all of the comments here soon but please enjoy the finale of this crazy story, i hope it was worth the wait :') 
> 
> warning - there are MANY mentions of vomiting during jeno's part. also um graphic (?) description of a dead body but you knew that coming into this.

_**Jeno** _

The phone rings and without looking at the caller code or his screen, Jeno sits up in bed and answers it. There’s a bubble of dread that’s been sitting in his chest since got home last night - growing and growing until Jeno found it hard to concentrate on anything else. He’d slept fitfully and the phone call hadn’t woke him up as much as pull him out of a worried daze. 

“Lee.” 

“You need to get over here right now.” It’s the Captain. 

Jeno doesn’t hesitate and launches himself out of bed, stripping off sleep shirt. “What happened?”

“I’ll tell you when you arrive. It’s not -” Sooyoung hesitates and Jeno feels the bubble grow, sliding up into his throat, making it hard to swallow. He yanks on a jacket and practically runs out the door grabbing his keys. “Brace yourself, Jeno.” She says finally.

Jeno frowns, uncomprehending but her next words send a chill down his spine. 

“It’s Doyoung’s address.”

Doyoung is a fantastic cook. 

That’s all Jeno can think about when he arrives at Doyoung and Yuta’s apartment. Doyoung is fantastic cook and Jeno has eaten a meal at their house so many times. Once they’d had a pot roast, another night a casserole. The last time Jeno had come over for dinner, Doyoung had made Korean food. It had been delicious. 

The hallways is full of personnel striding back and forth, talking in low hushed tones. None of them look at Jeno as he pushes open the door to Doyoung’s apartment. It looks like his place, clean and white, the same rabbit and lilies painting hanging by the kitchen, the chess board that’s always set up on the coffee table. It looks like his place but it also doesn’t. The apartment is also full of people and the door to Doyoung’s room is thrown open and before Jeno can stop himself, he’s striding towards the door, heart in his mouth, crossing over the doorway -

Sooyoung steps in his way and shoves him back, hand on his chest. “Wait, Jeno,” she says sternly. “You shouldn’t go in there.”

Jeno looks at her in disbelief. “What- _no_.” He says. “Let me in-”

“It’s bad,” Sooyung says with a tight set to her mouth. “Jeno it’s - it’s really bad, you should-.”

Jeno swallows around nothing and everything. “Let me in, Captain.” He says. “That’s Doyoung’s room you need to let me in right now.”

Sooyoung gazes at him and then steps back, pushing the door open wider. “Brace yourself.” 

Jeno doesn’t register it at first.

He sees the bed, the lamp, the painting hanging opposite and the carpet stained bright red with blood.

He sees the walls plastered with papers - case files, notes _,_ photographs - _evidence_ from every single crime scene they had seen for the last year, every single case that had gone cold.

He sees the note, lying by Doyoung's body, singled out by a bright yellow evidence marker - #1. The shaky scrawl that has littered so many police reports Jeno has made his way through in his career. The tears dotting the words _I'm sorry._

He sees Doyoung - Doyoung's _body_ \- on the floor, arms akimbo, eyes staring unseeing up at the ceiling, throat slit open. The blood is no longer flowing.

Jeno sees it all.

And then suddenly he finds it hard to breathe.

Hands are grabbing at him and Jeno tries to fight them off but all he can see is Doyoung, Doyoung's pale face, Doyoung's blank eyes, and Jeno chokes-

He vomits.

Someone shoves his head between his knees and Jeno is distantly aware he's crying.

He wonders if Yuta knows.

He throws up again.

Snatches of conversation make their way over to him, through the white noise and the sound of his own throat, hoarse and sore but still gagging around nothing. Everything hurts.

"- call him again?"

"I've _tried_ , he's not picking up."

"Try the next number."

"He's losing it-"

" _Sssh._ " A lowered whisper follows the hiss and Jeno can hear it clearly. "Can you blame him? Kim was pretty much his mentor."

Jeno gags again and presses his hands against the wall he's knelt again. His palms scrape against the popcorn paint and he tries to focus on the faint pricks of pain but then Doyoung's face flashes in front of him again and he throws up around nothing, bile rising in his throat.

The world goes white again and Jeno struggles to breathe. How could Doyoung die? How could _Doyoung_ \- No, he couldn't be. He wouldn't do that.

Doyoung was not the killer, he simply could not be.

But Jeno remembers the reluctance Doyoung had displayed at his eagerness to pursue the cold cases. How cold and removed he'd become when he stood over the victims. How he had found one of them - all by himself.

Jeno shuts his eyes and thunks his head against the wall.

Doyoung wouldn't. He wouldn't.

He-

Jaemin is here.

Jeno blinks and then focuses on his surroundings. He's at the precinct, in the overnight rooms. The room is quiet and dark.

He shifts up on his elbows and Jaemin snaps to attention, immediately kneeling in front of him.

"How are you doing?" He asks worriedly. His hands rest on by Jeno but he doesn't touch him.

Jeno stares at him and then he remembers.

"Doyoung," he whispers, voice cracking. It hurts to speak. Truth be told, Jeno had had held small sliver of hope, something flickering in the center of his chest that maybe, _maybe_ , it was all a mistake. That Doyoung-

Jaemin's face crumples and Jeno knows then. "I'm so sorry, Jeno," he says in a hushed tone. "I'm so, _so_ sorry."

Doyoung was the killer Jeno had been chasing for the better part of a year.

The minute the words sink into his head, his heart, Jeno feels himself crack apart.

"No," he chokes out, swinging his legs up over the bed. Jaemin scrambles up with him, the worried expression clear on his face. "No, no, he wouldn't. Jaemin - _no,_ he wouldn't-"

"I'm sorry," Jaemin says again and he catches Jeno when he stumbles. Jeno's head lands on Jaemin's shoulder and he doesn't pull away, doesn't have the strength to. "I'm sorry, I heard your Captain confirming it with the Commissioner this afternoon."

Jeno shakes, trembles and he starts to cry. His world is falling down around him and he has no idea what to do now. Doyoung was the closest thing he'd ever had to a brother. He was his mentor, his _friend_ , and he'd _lied_ to Jeno. For so many years. He'd killed people. "He wouldn't-" He tries but his voice cracks and he lets himself sag in Jaemin's arms, his body failing. "He - Doyoung wouldn't."

"I'm sorry," Jaemin says again. Softer. His arms wrap around Jeno's waist, holding him up, holding him there. His cheek presses against Jeno's temple and he holds Jeno. "I'm so, so sorry Jeno."

Jeno cries and cries.

What is he supposed to do now?

_**Jaemin** _

A fortnight later sees Jaemin standing outside Jeno's apartment. He's only been here a handful of times but never long enough to remember the finer details. He should be more prepared from here on out.

You never know when a cop's apartment could become the perfect place to stash evidence.

Jaemin snorts down at his shoes before raising his hand to knock at the door again. "Jeno," he calls. "I know you're home. Please open the door. I just want to make sure you're okay."

There's a pause and then Jaemin hears a thump. The lock clicks and the door swings open to reveal Jeno. He looks awful. There's an awful pallor to his face, pale and worn out. His hair is ratty and there's a five o' clock shadow that looks more like a ten o' clock shadow. Jaemin's pretty sure he hasn't showered in days.

"Don't worry," Jeno says dully. "I haven't murdered thirty people and slit my own throat."

Jaemin winces. "Hi," he says quietly before holding up the bag. "Renjun made you soup."

Jeno's eyes flicker over the bag and his gaze seems to gain a little light before it drops back off again like a malfunctioning light bulb. Dim and flickering. "Come in, I guess," he says and waves Jaemin through the door.

Jaemin hasn't been in Jeno's apartment many times before, sure, but he certainly does not remember it being this messy. There's empty takeout containers lying everywhere, clothes and empty liquor bottles nestled in and around the mess. The only place that seems to be clean is the cat area where the litter boxes and the cat trees sit. Two cats perch on the highest seat and they both hiss at Jaemin when he passes, bristling hard, their tails spiking up and teeth bared.

Jeno doesn't seem to notice. Jaemin brushes past them without a secondary glance. He's perfectly used to animals not liking him - it's practically second nature at this point. Jaemin suspects it's the constantly lingering smell of blood that no human nose could detect.

"Are - were there any updates?" Jaemin asks cautiously. "About um, Doyoung?"

Jeno drops on the couch and looks straight ahead, not meeting Jaemin's gaze. "Apparently he'd been doing it for years," he says listlessly. "They told me he'd been doing it slowly over months, spreading it out so the evidence didn’t get noticed. Or picked up on by too many people."

Jaemin drinks this in. "Have you eaten today?" He asks.

Jeno snorts but doesn't bother replying. The sun is setting, casting a garish glow on the living room floor and so Jaemin takes it upon himself to warm up the soup for Jeno. His kitchen is just as messy as the living room, if not more and Jaemin casts a critical look at the dishes lying in the sink, the messy pots and pans.

He hunts around for a clean bowl and spoon as the soup heats up in the microwave before heading back out to Jeno.

"Here," he says quietly, holding the bowl out. "Eat this." Jeno doesn't move and Jaemin sighs, setting the bowl down on the coffee table, pushing aside a half full carton of what seems like day old Chinese food. "Jeno," he says insistently. "I can't even begin to understand what you're going through right now. I have no earthly idea. But the least I can do is try to help _you_. So please eat something. Renjun made it for you."

Jeno looks at him then and Jaemin holds the soup out again. There's an agonising pause where it looks like Jeno just might slump back into the cushions and go semi catatonic again but then he slowly reaches out and takes the food from Jaemin. "Tell Renjun thanks," he says, mechanically spooning the soup into his mouth with no care if it burns him or not.

"I will," Jaemin promises. "He wanted to be here too, to help, but... We didn't want to crowd you."

Silence.

Jeno eats like a robot, following the motions and Jaemin watches him, wondering if it would be overstepping if he started to clean up around him.

"How did they know it was him?" He asks finally.

He has to know.

Jeno stops eating and the spoon clinks against the bowl when he sets it back down. He sighs. "His finger prints were all over the cases and when they got ahold of his laptop, his search history was damning. There were searches for masks, carbon monoxide, other murder weapons that matched the profiles of the cold cases." Jeno speaks as if reciting a list that he'd memorised, a speech he was speaking by rote. No emotion. Jeno looks at him then and Jaemin looks back. "It goes back five years, Jaemin." He says. "Five years."

He makes an aborted motion and Jaemin thinks he's going to fling the bowl at the opposite wall for a second but Jeno just takes another spoonful.

"Damning evidence." Jaemin doesn't even realise he's said the words aloud until Jeno snorts, an ugly, dark sound.

"I should have known," he says and it's bland. "I should have realised."

"How could you have?" Jaemin asks, shifting forward. He opens his mouth to say more but Jeno cuts him off with a single shake of his head.

"I should have known. I shouldn't have let my bias cloud my judgement. I knew it was strange when he-" He stops abruptly and stares at the soup. "I should have known."

Jeno drains the last of the soup and sets the empty bowl on the table.

Jaemin turns the words around and around in his mind, on the tip of his tongue. He doesn't know what to say exactly. Doesn't know how to make this better. Doesn't know how to break Jeno out of whatever mechanical hold he'd been locked in ever since he'd broken down in Jaemin's arms at the precinct.

Finally, he tentatively rests his hand on Jeno's arm, moving slowly, so slowly, giving Jeno time to pull away if he wants to. Jeno doesn't move and he doesn't flinch when Jaemin's fingers wrap around his forearm.

"I'm sorry this happened to you," Jaemin says quietly. "But it wasn't your fault, Jeno. It wasn't."

Jeno swallows hard and his other hand latches onto Jaemin's all of a sudden. Jaemin twists his hand upwards so their fingers interlace and Jeno is clinging onto him. Hard and unyielding.

He wonders if Jeno will cry but there are no tears glimmering at the back of Jeno's eyes. He just holds on and shudders once, just like a tree before the fierce power of winter hits. Just once; a quiet, heartbreaking sound. And then he doesn't move again.

Jeno holds on and Jaemin lets him.

It's the _least_ he could do after all.

_**Renjun** _

The funeral is held on a rainy afternoon.

It's oddly poetic if Renjun thinks about it, but he doesn't allow himself to - not for long anyway. This is not the time or place to be wondering about the prose that rises his to his lips at the feeling and the sound of rain showering down around them as the priest murmurs before them.

It's a small crowd, not many uniformed officers. Yuta, Doyoung's husband is standing alone at the front, Jeno beside him. Renjun and Jaemin stand at the very back, their pinky fingers interlaced.

Renjun dislikes funerals. They're always so full of unimaginable hurt, somber and painful. He closes his eyes for a second, steadying himself, grounding himself by the linked finger to Jaemin.

It's a short affair - they lower the casket into the ground and Renjun is the last one to toss a handful of dirt on its gleaming cover before he steps aside, glancing around for Jaemin.

He's standing a little ways away, wrapping Jeno up in a tight hug. Jeno isn't crying as far as Renjun can tell but he's shaking, trembling so hard, the umbrella he's holding shakes, splattering rain onto both of them. Renjun watches them for a moment longer before he turns away. Jaemin can handle Jeno.

However, Yuta is crying when Renjun looks at him. He hasn't moved from the grave site, sobbing quietly, his shoulders shaking. Renjun contemplates him before he plucks up the courage and moves to stand beside him.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," he murmurs. "I - I can't even imagine."

Yuta doesn't look at him. "He wouldn’t do that, you know." He says distantly and Renjun's not sure if Yuta even realises he's standing there. It seems as if he's talking to himself. Yuta shakes his head. "I know him, I loved - _love_ \- him. He wasn’t that kind of person, he -" a fresh spill of tears flows out and Yuta chokes, bowing his head. His thin frame shakes under the force of his sobs. "He wasn't a killer. He was a _good man_ , a _kind_ man."

Renjun swallows. The ground is soaked, the dirt on the casket transforming into mud before his very eyes. He pauses, considering his words before he speaks. "... I'm sure he was a good man for you. And even if it hurts to hear, people aren’t always what they seem." Renjun glances over his shoulder at Jaemin who's still holding onto Jeno, both of their umbrellas discarded on the ground beside them, his face carefully blank even as rain slicks down his face. Renjun turns back to Yuta. "For what it's worth, though, I think you _should_ keep thinking of him like that. He was a good man. Keep thinking of him like that. Don't let that be taken away from you. No matter what happens." Renjun takes a breath. "I'm sorry that this happened to you."

Yuta looks at him then. His eyes are red and his tears are still streaking down his face. "Thank you," he says quietly, sniffling. "Do I know you?"

Renjun smiles softly. "No," he says gently. "I'm just... A friend of a friend."

Jeno comes over, and Renjun steps back as he hugs Yuta again, hard and fierce, clinging to him with all the force of a thunderstorm. Jaemin steps up beside Renjun and they turn away to give them their privacy.

The rest of the grounds are empty - it's just them now. Them and the rain.

Renjun looks down at his and Jaemin's intertwined fingers and says nothing. It doesn't seem right to break this silence. This sacred quiet.

Finally, Jeno steps away, sniffing hard, and scrubbing down his face. "I want to Yuta a ride home," he tells them. "Can we go?"

"Of course," Jaemin murmurs.

"I just want to pay my respects one last time," Renjun says. "Can you give me a minute?"

Jeno nods at him, and he loops an arm over Yuta's shoulder and gently leads him away from the grave. Renjun can hear him telling Yuta they can come back again.

He watches them go and then it's just him and Jaemin standing in the rain. Renjun turns Jaemin's hand over and laces their fingers together tighter. They stand there in silence, by the open grave as the rain thunders louder around them.

Renjun gives it a moment and when the thunder rumbles, loud and menacing, right above them, then he leans up on his tip toes to press a kiss to Jaemin’s cheek.

"Thank you," he says.

Jaemin tips his head down at him. "What for?" He asks, in a tone of mild confusion. "For helping Jeno? i would have done that regardless. He casts a smile down at Renjun and tightens their hands together, making to head back to the car but Renjun stops him.

He stops him, and turns him around, clasping his other hand around the edge of Jaemin's coat and tugging him back. "Thank you," Renjun repeats, staring up at Jaemin.

There's a beat.

The rain is so loud.

Then Jaemin smiles. "Of course," he says sweetly, so sweetly it _aches_ , insistent at the back of Renjun’s teeth like too-sweet candy. So sweet it coats Renjun all over. "I would do anything for you."

Renjun smiles back. They turn, hand in hand, nestled under the same umbrella and head back to Jeno. Head back home.

The rain washes everything away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/_donghyuck_)   
>  [cc](https://curiouscat.me/thereisnoreality)


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